The Walker
by ahiddenbanshee
Summary: A continuation of the story Mad World. Following The Black Family [what's left of them], Sam, Daryl [ Lacey's orphans] and the rest of the group 8 months after the losing battle at Greene Farm and the Great Separation during Andrea's intended rescue. Will they ever reunite again? As you manage to survive in this mad world you just may become the thing you fear most.
1. Chapter 1

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_'There's a moment in every woman's life where she needs to... Oh, who am I kidding. I can't just sit around anymore! That's what we've been doing all this time, since... Okay, I appreciate you taking care of me, __**really**__, I do. But I think __**Andrea**__ needs your care far more than I. I need to move on, and I really wish that I could convince you to come along with me, but I know your concern about Andrea has become a secret priority. I need to get back to my people, something I needed to do the exact moment after... she was taken away. Rocket will protect me, she's got a keen sense of direction- basically the reason we found shelter and protection throughout winter, how we've survived this long just the four of us. She can do it again too, she won't let me down. Do not let this weigh slightest ounce on your conscience, this was __**my**__ decision, __**mine **__alone__. And for the love of GOD do not try to come after me- remember Andrea needs you more than I do. I'm living on hopes and dreams that I'll hook up with my family again, and I sincerely plead to whatever deity is still out there watching us [and probably laughing] that after I find them I can find you again and... well... you get the idea._

_I'm a woman on a mission, I can not be detoured! I hope you to see you again, Michonne. Tell Andrea the same._

_I'm taking __**her**__ things with me. A bit of a load off you back. I may not be the swordsman she was or you are, but I'm sure if I swing and slice like hell __**some**__thing will get chopped off, it might even save my life should it become my last option for weapons._

_Andrea was asleep while I wrote this, she'll probably still be sleeping by the time you get back, and Rocket and I'll be long gone. _

_Farewell, good luck, until we meet again._

_Sam'_

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Michonne let a heavy sigh out through her nose, folding up the note she considered going after the little brunette... but the girl was right, about many things, but this was her decision. Michonne wouldn't let it eat at her conscience. She'd found the note beside Andrea, where she indeed found her sleeping on the concrete floor of the bar they were holding up in, curled up and sprawled out at the same time in a patch of sunlight shining through the grimy window.

Andrea would feel some blame when Michonne told her that Sam and Rocket were gone. She would feel even more of the burden with her chronic and unwavering sickness that had slowed them down all through winter and now. But she would also feel proud, 'good for her', taking initiative, her birthday had to have come and passed since the big separation- 15 years old- she was capable. She had been the caretaker of other children, children that were no longer alive, but she had done her best. She had her bow and arrows, a precise shot. And she had many other skills, some she'd had and some she'd developed. The women weren't worried, and with Rocket at the girl's side, she would definitely be fine. The former police dog had, like Sam had written, never let them down. A fierce protecter and fighter... Sam would be alright.

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"Okay." Sam breathed, hauling Lacey's shashka carefully into the makeshift holster she'd created out of scraps of material she'd stumbled upon during their constant journey, adjusting her bag, bow and arrows as well, as they walked at a leisurely pace, "I know it might be difficult for you, since we haven't seen them in a while- or smelled them- and I don't have anything of theirs for you to, like... catch a scent or something. But you're a smart dog, like, seriously, I have never met a smarter dog. So when I say try and take us back to... Jo, or- or Daryl, or Rick, I think you know exactly what I mean... Right...?"

Rocket glanced up at her, nails clicking on the asphault as she kept up with Sam. "Don't give me that look." Sam tutted, "You can do this. Take all the time you need... well... not **all** the time, but you know what I mean. Be careful, be precise, be sure and we'll make it back to them. Back to Daryl, and Jo... And Erin and Honey. Rick, Lori, Carl... Amy, Maggie and Glenn, Sophia and everyone else."

There was a sort of whine that came out of Rocket's throat as the clicking of her nails ceased when they swerved off the road and onto natural, dirt ground. Sam understood that whine in dog-speak as, 'but not _everyone_, not really'.

"Yeah..." Sam mumbled, "Yeah, I know... But we can't try to find her until we find the others. I mean, you saw those guys. They were... they were thugs. I mean! Michonne and Lacey are the toughest women I've ever met. But given that Lacey had just suffered from a miscarriage she can't really be like- like, you know, blamed for being caught off guard. But... but those guys... we couldn't take them on alone. They weren't weary travelers, like ourselves, going from place to place, they were... were organized. We would've known if they'd been following us... _you_ would've known..." the girl gestured to the dog who simply kept her gaze forward, eyes peeled for movement of any kind as she led the way to... well... not exactly salvation, but back to their family, back to the people that they considered 'home'... hopefully.

"Which leads me to believe," Sam continued, "that they _weren't_ following us, not until the very end, at least. They were on their merry way until they saw us. In a car, I'd think. A car which was taking them back to their base of operations..." she snorted a moment later, "Base of operations? Man," she snorted again, letting out a laugh, "This is what happens when... when..." she groaned a moment later, "I'm so tempted to say 'are we there yet?', but we're not even close, huh, buddy?"

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**Note**: And there we have it! The _thrilling_ start to The Walker. I know it's quite short, but after much consideration I decided... eh, it's fine. I think it's a good way to begin.

I would quickly like to thank Alex for being my sort of cheerleader; it's your lovely words that have really helped me along. I would also like to thank my beta, I love her, _so_ much.  
_Returning readers_, I would also like to thank YOU for sticking with me.  
_**New readers**_**, I suggest you head on over to my profile page and read ****Mad World**** before deciding to continue following this story... Or don't... What ever you'd like. But to clear up any confusion like, Who the hell is SAM!? You might want to visit ****Mad World****. **

I'm really excited about continuing this story! Guh! Let the drama commence!


	2. Chapter 2

_**If you'll notice, dear readers! **__This is no longer just the first half of chapter two- __**IT IS **__the __**FULL chapter**__! ENJOY! Comments are appreciated!_

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He never told her he loved her. He said it once, but even then it was just a slip of the tongue. He wanted to tell her... God, he wished he was able to say it. He made a promise to himself to try and say it more, work himself into it, so it was second nature, so it wasn't so trivial or awkward anymore. Like he could say it just as easily as he breathed.

Lacey, I love you. I love you, Lace. Love you, baby. Darlin', I love you. Love you, princess. I love you. Love you. Love...

The night that Lacey, Sam and Rocket had left to retrieve Andrea, he even tried to practice it with Honey once he was off watch and the girl had decided to give him grief and stay awake when he could've caught a few hours of sleep. But even with her it was awkward, her keen little gaze focused on him unless she was pulling at the socks on her feet. They were some of Sophia's socks, way too large for her, and very puzzling and amusing to the babe as to why they were on her feet in the first place. She babbled quietly to him, as if she knew of his predicament and wanted to help him out. If she talked maybe it would ease his tension, loosen him up, let the words he found so damn hard to say flow easier. Her babble consisted of nonsense prattle and one of the only two words she knew- Daddy, and the few variations of the title. She was smart enough that when he'd ventured to say the statement he was so determined to say, starting with 'Lacey' and struggling the with the rest and ending in a disgruntled growl- Honey perked up and murmured, "Ma? Mmmama."

"Your mama will be back tomorrow, girly." he murmured softly, twisting and knotting a blade of grass between his fingers. He'd found the last of some flowers on some shrubs before the sun set, knitting them together into a tiny wreath he'd rested atop Honey's head before she tore it away to gaze at it in fascination.

The blade of grass had become fashioned into a sort of ring, feeling foolish already he tried the ring on for size, it barely made it past his knuckle. A ring. _The_ ring.

The simple silver band was gone from his pocket now, like the heaviest burden in his pocket, an immeasurable weight, finally gone, finding a home on Lacey's finger. She wore his ring. She wore it as a symbol of his love and trust. He felt even more stupid when he had nothing to show as a symbol. Maybe Sam could sniff out another jewelry store and pick through the remains and find him something too. The idea was ludicrous, of course, but still. It was the little piece of normality they had now. Establishing partnership. Marriage...

Which was another reason why he had to get over his phobia of the 'L' word al-fucking-ready. If they were married he had to learn how to tell his wife he loved her, no hesistation, without question, positive.

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Morning came and they had to move out. There was no sign of them though. No sign of Lacey, Sam, Rocket- no sign of Andrea. Rick set a wary glance on the horizon, on the road where they hoped they would see the four making their way tiredly back to the camp... but he had stated the rules- told them how it would be... they had to move on, with or without them.

The worry was ever present, but when they didn't come back like promised- successful, triumphant- the twisting low in his gut became a little tighter. She always came back though, they always did. They were capable... So they moved on, minus two warrior women and a former police hound. But they would catch up. That's what Amy always mumbled to the kids, mumbled as she fought back tears, mumbled as she cried into Jo's chest. The fault was hers. That's what she would say. It was her sister they went after and now they were all gone.

A week passed and it was starting to set in. They weren't going to catch up. They weren't coming back. Winter was rolling in quickly. They wouldn't be able to survive, even if they are out there... They were gone. Lacey. Samantha. Rocket. Andrea... they were gone.

Shields were back up at full power. The only people Daryl would let them down for was Honey and Erin, sometimes Jo. The rest of the time, he was gruff and blunt... Though he was urged not to be, by himself and by Jo. He explained that Lacey wouldn't have wanted him to shut himself out from the group again, she'd want him to stay close, refrain from drifting away. They needed him way more than he needed them. But there was no way he'd leave the girls- his girls. They were all he had left of her. Lacey's orphans...

He never told her he loved her. Now that burden... that weighed much heavier in his mind than that ring ever did sitting in his pocket. He loved her and he never told her...

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There used to be a time when it didn't seem so bad. Compared to what they were dealing with now. Severed limbs, overrun safe havens, lost family members; they all seemed just like... just like bad dreams, a nightmare within their nightmare world where the dead rose and sought the flesh of the living. They were constantly on the move, never in one place for too long, and idea of vocally communicating was too risky- an ever present quiet surrounded them... Three women and one canine missing and presumed dead. Four children, one baby. Ten adults, one of whom was pregnant and growing closer and closer to her due date. There used to be a time where the fear was there, but they were still capable of a full nights sleep, able to obtain food, wash their clothes. There had been a time where they believed that one day it would all be over; it would all get cleaned up, and they could go home. That they would be saved. But now...Now, they had grown far wiser...No one was coming to save them.

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They communicated through actions, with their eyes, hardly ever with words. The quieter they were, the longer they could stay in one place. But they didn't ever stay long, what with walkers always on their trail.

They were closing in on eight months, winter had come and gone. They didn't lose anybody, so it was considered a victory. The walkers had slowed down some in the cold temperatures, bones freezing, joints frozen, locked into place. But walkers were diligant, they never tired, they just kept on going until they could move again, should they lose a limb in the process they couldn't be bothered, just as long as they were moving on again was all that mattered.

Lori's belly grew and expanded. She was their very own portable time bomb. But she never complained though. She just kept on, did as was needed. She even helped with the other children, the young ones, except Carl. The boy had grown into quite the young man as they searched for a new home, he was a functioning, working member of the group and a sharp shot. But Lori helped with Erin and Honey when should could tell it was becoming a little too much for Daryl all by himself. Erin shed many tears months ago when Jo finally sat her down and explained that Lacey wasn't coming back and neither was Sam or Rocket. But the tears had long since stopped, her lips became a permanent line and she spoke only when spoken to. Even then she would try to limit her responses to nods and shakes of the head. She followed Daryl's example. Though sometimes she would cautiously make her way to him, stand in front of him, twisting her fingers together until he acknowledged her and when he did, glancing up, then back down, giving a short nod, she would climb into his lap and they would just sit together. No tears, no words, just bask in one another's presence, soaking up the remains of what was left of the blonde that had been left in them.

Honey would mumble for her Ma, but as months passed her mumblings came less and less frequently. They all had assumed she'd forgotten Lacey, come to terms with it, but who were they to really understand what that child knew. She doesn't let out even the tiniest squeak anymore. She's just as, if not even more, quiet as Erin.

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Everyone is a little older now, in more ways than they'd care to count. Wise to the ways of this new world. It has aged them all, made them harder, meaner, tougher. It has given them the strength to stand firm in the face of horror, unflinching and unyielding. It has made them survivors.

When the prison is discovered and it's decided it's perfect by means of security and space. They can finally settle down, stop running and turn the place of corrections into a place of community, peace. They could do this, they would do this.

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Cutting a hole through the outer perimeter fence they all rushed in and closed the fence up with a length of rope through the links before running to the main gate and devising a plan.

That plan? Clear the yard.

"We could shut that gate, prevent more from fillin' the yard. We could pick off these walkers. We'll take the field by tonight." Rick words it like a suggestion, but states it without a hint of question.

"So, how do we shut the gate?"

Glenn is always the first to volunteer, "I'll do it. You guys cover me."

"No. 'S a suicide run." Maggie quickly countered, her feelings on the matter more than about losing her lover. Running through a field of walkers, it was running headlong to your death sentence.

"I'm the fastest." Glenn reasoned.

Jo threw a gentle punch against Glenn's shoulder, "We're both fast. Glenn and I will go."

This time Amy piped up in disagreement against her significant others risking literally life and limb to run a mission that would 100 percent end in their demise, "Jo."

Jo turned to her, "Amy-" but was cut off by Rick.

"No. Glenn, Maggie, Amy. You go, draw as many as you can over there. Pop 'em through the fence. Daryl, Jo, go back to the other tower. Carol, you've become a pretty good shot, take your time, we don't have a lot of ammo to waste. Hershel, you and Carl take this tower. I'll run for the gate." As soon as Rick gave out an order they were off on their tasks.

"What do you want me to do?" Sophia spoke up.

Rick rested a hand on her shoulder, "You... you stand watch, make noise with the others, just don't get too close. Stay near Erin and Honey, don't let them out of your sight."

"'Kay." she nodded. He gave a glimmer of a smirk before taking the chain-linked carabiner clips from Glenn and standing before the gate.

He gave a short glance at Lori and the gate rolled open...

A few short minutes later, the sound of gun shots piercing the air ceased. The yard was theirs.

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A small camp was built with a fire in the center. Everyone gathered around, feasting on the catch of the day, except those who were posted on watch and Rick who was walking the fence perimeter in search of defects. Walkers on the other side of the fence followed him all the way around, snarling and growling.

Jo shifted a nearly sleeping Honey off to Erin, who was nestled close to Sophia. He brushed off his backside as he stood up and wandered off toward the over turned truck where two people stood atop it. And from what he could see from the light of the moon, back rubbing ministrations were being performed. He snorted, a scoff that was something between amusement and revulsion. Sure, it had been eight months since his sister had walked away from them (on yet another heroic journey) and never returned. That might have been more than enough time for someone to mourn and _move_ _on_, but in this world it seemed different. And if he was honest with himself, it was his sister, his big sister. In his mind there would never be a greater woman and in his mind he almost believed Daryl shouldn't ever stop mourning, just like he didn't. There would never be another woman like Lacey for Daryl. But it wasn't his place to tell someone how to live their life, especially in a world like this.

So he played it off as indifferent, unbothered. "Hey, you creepers," he called up them, hearing the remains of a quiet giggling as he grew closer. He shifted the strap of the rifle off his shoulder.

"You're off the clock, bub." he nodded to Daryl, eyeing Carol with a hint of a grin.

"I'll go down first," Daryl grumbled.

"Ever better," Carol quipped, apparently part of the joke they were sharing before Jo's arrival, he smothered the twist in his gut that felt like betrayal.

"Stop," Daryl mumbled back with a hint of amusement in his tone before he climbed down, assisting Carol after.

Jo just kept that grin on his face as Carol passed him, heading back to the mini camp.

"Hey, uh, Daryl?" Jo refrained from reaching out to him as he passed, though he never had to resort to a physical means to stop Daryl. As the months passed their friendship became... well, that. A friendship. Jo would absolutely refer to Daryl as his friend. And Daryl, he would do the same, less enthusiastically of course. Daryl turned sharply toward Jo, keen eyes apparently taking notice of the minute hint of worry in Jo's features.

"Go on," he said to Carol who'd stopped as well, "Be just a minute."

And Carol was walking toward the camp again.

"'Sup?" he nodded at Jo.

Jo shifted from foot to foot, "The girls ate. Hon's about ready to call it a night. She's with Erin... But, uhm," he paused, and Daryl made no attempt to urge him on, he just waited.

"We know that neither of them has really spoken much since... since... ya know...? With Erin it's understandable. And she even talks to you sometimes, so it's not that worrisome. But Honey..." he sighed, "All her mumblings have stopped. She's passed her first birthday, she's had to have. A-and she's growing and learning, but she doesn't talk anymore, and she can't even walk on her own. I'm a not a pro in child development, but this isn't exactly good. And I think she's smarter than we give her credit for, and..." he sighed again, this time in irritation, shooting a glance toward the fire where the girl he spoke of was no doubt snoozing easily, "What I'm trying to say is... This will be a good place to create stability, to teach her, to watch her grow and bloom. To parent her."

There was shift in Daryl's posture, a straightening in his spine that was answering to what he'd apparently taken from Jo's words as a challenge.

"She's growing, Daryl. Slow as it may be, she _is_ growing. You have to be the parent you decided to be, you have to take responsibility and teach her. She needs to learn how to speak and how to walk. You have to be the father she understands you to be, she's already lost her mother, she can't lose you too."

Jo mentally thanked his love of language and communication and his sister for his being able to subtly slip that minor burn in. He was making suggestions to his friend, and if there happened to be an underlying message in there that said, 'Don't even think about it, pal' and it was heard, then their friendship was stronger than he'd assumed. But just because they were friends didn't mean that Daryl wouldn't be offended, or angry.

There was a few long moments of silence where Daryl just stared at Jo while considering his words or was perhaps contemplating how badly he could beat him before someone came to his rescue.

But in the end Daryl just nodded, "Once things are settled down, I'll get her to start walkin'."

There's no underlying message in his words, but Jo can hear a slight apology and promise. They share another nod before they part ways. Daryl back to the camp, Jo to the turned over truck. He glances toward the fire where everyone is gathered now, sees Daryl settle down beside Amy and Erin. Sees him pluck Honey carefully from Erin's arms, arranging Honey comfortably in one arm while the other pulled Erin over to him.

Jo chuckled quietly, turning away from the camp, his family, and looked out toward the expanse outside their little fortress. The world seemed a little less scary now. Though they still had work to do, but it felt easier now, calmer. He tilted his head skyward, "You can count on me, Lace. I'll keep that man of yours in line."

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Rick had made an observation the night before that the most of the walkers were dressed as guards and prisoners, which probably meant that the prison had succumbed early. It meant that supplies were possibly in tact. They planned to head for the warden's office first to get their information straight. The number of walkers that were just _outside_ compared to their amount of ammo caused concern in most of the most of the group. When Rick said that they'd go in hand to hand, he was met with more troubled expressions. But his word was law, they'd all agreed to that eight months ago. They were going into that prison, and they were going to strike gold...

The next morning the plans were set and were soon to be put into motion.

Rick, Daryl, Glenn, Maggie, T and Jo would go through the gate and stay in tight formation, while the rest stayed on the outside of the gate, crowing and shaking at it, drawing as many walkers as they could and pick them off through the links. Easing the heat off the group as they carefully and quickly kill there way in with the cut-one-down-and-move-on-for-someone-else-to-finish-them-off strategy. There was trouble with armoured walkers, but that was quickly resolved by Maggie's example to just bypass the armour.

With the key clips in use again, they closed off a gate with a courtyard full of walkers. They were secure. Or so it seemed. One of the walkers was a civilian, which meant that some where the perimeter was breached. Inside the prison could be a total mess of walkers just waiting for them. They couldn't risk a blind spot, but they had to keep going...

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Inside the prison they were met with a quiet so bone chilling, so off putting it was oppressive. The scene just screamed 'go back', but they pressed in. They were already on edge, working on pure adrenaline, but even the tiniest sounds, the smallest drips from leaking pipes, the clinking of chain and lock against iron sent their pulses hammering even faster.

Rick retrieved the keys from the warden's perch, and they moved on into the cell block neighbouring- Cell block C.  
The block was just as eerily quiet as the common area next to it. There were a few bodies in cells, _dead_dead ones, unlike the few that were dead, grabby and snarling on the second level. But they were an easy remedy...

The bodies were being dragged out as the rest of the group was guided in, belongings in tow. As Glenn so joyfully put it, it was their new home sweet home. Home. A cell block, within a prison, full of walkers...

For the time being at least.

This was the only secure area of the prison, so far. Tomorrow they would search out the cafeteria and the infirmary.

"Do we sleep in the cells?" Beth wondered.

Rick brought out a ring of keys, "Found some keys on some guards, Daryl has a set too."

"I ain't sleepin' in no cage." Daryl stated, "I'll take the perch." He nodded toward the stairs before heading to them and setting his crossbow against the wall.

Everyone else began picking their cells. They split up into pairs, choosing bunks. Erin stuck close to Sophia, taking the cell right next to Lori and Carol's. Jo and Amy next to them, then Glenn and Maggie and Hershel and Beth. Carl took a cell of his own. And Daryl took Honey before Amy could even set her down on the thin mattress, "Come on, baby girl. You ain't sleepin' in no cage either."

Honey was already leaning her head against his shoulder, hands flexing lazily over his bicep and neck. But she didn't make a peep.

Daryl stopped by Erin and Sophia's cell, "Y'alright in there, darlin'?"

Erin glanced to Sophia before nodding and murmuring a quiet, "Yeah."

He gave a nod back, "You know where I am."

The block was settled. A quiet came over things, heavy, but sort of peaceful kind. Everyone had their place, and much needed and deserved rest took over.

During the middle of the night Erin left her cell. Guided by the moonlight shining through the windows she found her way to where Daryl was laid out with Honey sprawled over his chest. He didn't startle awake when she scooted up into his side and pulled his arm over her. He'd heard her the moment her feet padded out of the cell. And once she was comfortable beside him, he allowed himself to really fall asleep.

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The next day before the intended agenda was glanced at, the armoured walkers are stripped. Aside from their heavy pads and helmets, they also had some riot weapons on them, most of it workable against walkers, the rest was up for experimentation.

"So, what's the plan, Cap?" Jo wondered, taking what seemed to be a heavier and longer version of an officer's nighstick Daryl offered to him.

Rick took notice of Jo's lift in attitude. The way he'd referred to Rick as 'Cap'. Over the last eight months he'd become quiet and cold. Now, he was more talkative, joking around a little more, like he used to, but he was tougher. Stronger mentally and physically. But since discovering this prison and making it theirs, it showed how something good could change somebody.

"Daryl, Hershel, Maggie, Glenn and T. We'll try to find food in the cafeteria or medical supplies in the infirmary. Which ever we find first. Jo, I need one man to stay behind, that's gonna be you." Rick explained while eyeing each person he mentioned.

All gave affirming nods, and Jo made no actions in opposing his task. In that way he didn't question Rick, the way he trusted him, he saw Lacey, the way he trusted him. But where Rick would seek council with Lacey, and Shane at that time, he didn't do the same with Jo. He may share some traits with his old sister, but he wasn't her. He was a good soldier, she was a good leader.

Those that chose to wear the gear taken from the walkers did though Daryl absolutely refused, and Rick didn't seem partial to it either. Heavy vests and pads were strapped on, and Carl was messing around with one of the cleaned out helmets.

"I need you to stay here." Rick told his son, taking the helmet away as he did. Jo's head lifted in interest, turning away from a stern faced Honey getting passed from Daryl's arms into Amy's.

"You're kidding!" Carl stated in confusion and mild irritation.

Jo walked over to the scene, while Rick explained quietly, "I need you here. If something should happen, you'll be one of the last men standing."

Carl gave a solemn, understanding nod. Jo dropped a hand on his shoulder, "Besides, I need you to back me up, buddy. Just like old times." he smirked, giving the kid a nudge. Just like old times _before_. Just like old times when Carl was **really** a kid. A smirk made its way to Carl's mouth, giving another nod as he handled the ring of keys his father had given him.

The group was geared up, flashlights in hand, weapons in the other. They moved through the gate and Carl locked it behind them.

"They'll be alright..." Beth said uncertainly, looking to Jo, "Won't they?"

Though the girl had toughened up some over the past months that was still all her family walking away from her. Jo nodded, slipping an arm around her shoulders, "They'll be fine."

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They were moving through the dark. Dark as pitch, flashlights moving frantically across the walls. They struggled to support Hershel and find their way back. But everywhere they turned they were met with silhouetted slinking bodies, accompanied by growls and snarls. The walker sounds were behind them as they found a clear path, the shuffling steps, the dragging limbs, the groaning.

In their attempt at finding their way back, or at least a place to assess Hershel's bite they found the cafeteria. A chain and lock around the door was cut away and they hastily shoved their way through the doors, slamming them shut behind them. Daryl and T using their weight to keep it closed against the relentless living-dead bodies on the other side...

They were working a slow and easy path, but then a group a walkers cut them off, sending them back the way they came. But then everywhere they turned walkers were coming out from hiding. The group was split apart. Maggie and Glenn. Hershel, T, Daryl and Rick. They waited the chaos out for a moment before trying to regroup. That's when a walker had grabbed Hershel and tore into his calf.

...His calf that was now severely bleeding on the cafeteria floor. Hershel was gasping and crying out from the pain of it. They all came to an agreement, a pact. And Rick wasn't going back on it.

He took his belt from his pants, tied off Hershel's leg above his knee, told the other to hold him still.

He hacked away at Hershel's leg. Nearing 10 chops later, Hershel's sounds had ceased, he was passed out from the shock. But the walkers were still outside and Hershel was bleeding out, they needed to get him back to the cell block where Carol might be able to do something about it.

The shock of what Rick had just done wore off just as quickly as it hit him. But it was Daryl's whispered warning of, "Duck," That sent his nerves on high alert again.

Rick dropped and Daryl popped up, crossbow aimed, five targets in his sight line peering in horrified shock through kitchen's gated window.

"Holy shit," a voice came from the new group that were obviously not walkers, but just as much of a threat.

"Who the hell are you?" Daryl asked, stepping cautiously yet threateningly toward the men inside the kitchen.

"Who the hell are _you_!?" a different voice demanded right back.

There wasn't any time for this. Rick instructed Maggie to keep pressure on Hershel's knee, hard, hard pressure. They needed a way to transport him back to the block.

"Come on outta there. Slow and steady." Daryl instructed, but the men were already moving. Moving and looking curiously toward the scene beyond Daryl.

"What happened to him?" the one who seemed to be the leader of the rag tag, jump-suited group of felons wondered.

"He got bit."

"Bit...?" the leader pulled out a correction officer's issued handgun tucked inside the tied off arms of his jumpsuit at his waist, somewhat cautiously.

T was quicker on his draw. Adding another weapon held onto these strangers.

Daryl's voice took on a friendly tone, "Woah, woah, woah. Easy now. Ain't nobody needs to get hurt." but his hands were still aiming and trigger ready.

Glenn, body and mind seemingly shocked into auto-pilot, stepped quickly through the crossfire and into the kitchen, "You have medical supplies?"

"Who the hell are you people, anyway?" the gun wielder demanded.

"Don't look like no rescue team." the smallest and oldest of the bunch commented.

"If a rescue team's what you're waitin' for- Don't," Rick responded while he eased Hershel off his back into a sitting position, "We gotta go! Now! C'mon!" There was a crash from the kitchen and Glenn emerged a moment later pushing a dinner cart. There was a struggle to lift Hershel onto the cart, but once he was up they started rolling for the door.

T took his aim away from the prisoners and pulled his riot gear weapon of choice away from the door handles that it was barricading. The walkers insistently pounding away started their way in once the door swung open but T gave them a pop to the skull and shoved them away. The cart moved forward, the group attached to it. Rick called for Daryl who still had his aim poised on the criminals, he swept out quick, never turning his back until they were out of his sight and he was out the door.

It's a mad dash back to C block. Carl was quick with the keys and swinging the door open. Hershel was brought to his and Beth's cell and now it was up to Carol. Hershel had taught her a few things, in preparation for the impending delivery of Lori's baby. Hopefully her small amount of knowledge would save Hershel's life.

The prisoners had followed them and Daryl was in the common area outside the block waiting. Crossbow loaded, aim on the door way. They peered into the light, easing into the area slowly.

"That's far enough," he warned.

"Cell block C. Cell four. That's mine, gringo. Lemme in." the leader nodded toward the locked door.

Daryl didn't flinch, didn't bat a lash, unbothered, "Today's your lucky day fellas. You been pardoned by the State of Georgia, you're free to go."

But the leader of the bunch seemed just as unbothered, though he was in no way as learned as the hunter, "Wha'cha got goin' on in there?"

"Ain't none of your concern." Daryl snapped back.

"Don't be tellin' me what's my concern!" the handgun was brought out again, there really was no telling, no way to predict this guy or any of them.

Daryl stood taller, keeping his aim, if not leveling it steadier at a sight between the man's eyes.

"Chill man. Dude's leg is messed up. 'Sides we're free now. Why we still in here?" the biggest of the five pleaded.

"Man's got a point."

"Yeah, and I gotta check on my old lady," another commented, and there was millisecond where Daryl faltered, though he'd never, ever go so far as to refer to her as his 'old lady', it was still a reference to... He mentally shook it off.

"Group of civilians breaking into a prison you got no business bein' in got me thinkin' there ain't no place for us **to** go." the leader argued back, but kept his gaze on Daryl, his arm straight, finger held just over the trigger.

"Why don't you go find out!" Daryl spat back.

The oldest, and clearly smartest, of the correction garbed group piped up, "Maybe we'll just be goin now."

"We ain't leavin'!" the leader stormed with a threatening shake of his gun.

"You ain't comin' in either." T materialized and took aim at the prisoners yet again.

The stand off and shouting match continued, voices growing louder and louder, fuses on tempers growing shorter and shorter with a bonus of lethal weapons. It quieted down only slightly when Rick made his appearance again, asking for calm, insisting there was no need for this.

"How many of you in there?" the leader nodded toward the block beyond the strangers.

"Too many for you to handle." Rick answered without hesitancy.

"You guys rob a bank or somethin'? Why don't you take him to a hospital."

For a moment it seemed like the gun wielding criminal was truly concerned, but more confused, and even more terrified. T, Rick and Daryl exchanged glances. These guys had no idea...

"How long've you been locked in that cafeteria...?"

The prisoners pieced together information. They were nearing the tenth month of being stashed away in that cafeteria, 292 days, or 294 days depending on who you asked. At the beginning, a riot broke out when they were told about people going 'cannibal' after coming back to life. Crazy shit. The last human contact they had was the guard that locked them up in the cafeteria, he gave them the gun and said he'd be back soon... And this is where they were now.

"We were thinking that the army or the national guard should be showing up anyday now," the biggest ventured, hope in his tone.

But Rick easily quashed any hope, after all this time, in this world, he'd learned that gentle isn't going to save any body, not their feelings, not anything. It was best to just give it straight, "There is no army."

"Wha'cha mean." the one with the gun demanded.

"There's no government. No hospital. No police, it's all gone." Rick shrugged simply.

"For real?" asked the old one in honest disbelief and bewilderment.

"Serious." Rick nodded.

The biggest one turned his gaze to the floor solemnly, "What about my moms..."

"My kids..." another one mumbled, "My old lady... Man, you gotta-gotta cell phone or something, we can call our families?"

Daryl scoffed under his breath, trying to ignore the squeezing and tensing in his stomach at the mention of wives, mothers and kids, "You just don't get it, do you?"

"No phones. No computers. As far as we can see, as least half the population's been wiped out. Probably more." Rick explained with a casualness only a survivor could manage. There was a long moment where the prisoners considered the new information, the unbelievable information given to them, all was quiet. The gun dropped down to hang limply from the wielder's hand, "Ain't no way."

Rick gestured to the doors, "See for yourself."

Along the journey outside the prisoners whispered among themselves, louder than they were aware, apparently since through their hisses Rick, T and Daryl were able to catch a few names. _'But Tomas-' 'Axel, shut up.' 'All's I was tryin' to say wa-' 'Shut the fuck up, man!' 'Yo, Andrew, just calm down. Leave him alone.'_

The door creaked and scraped open, the felons stepped out first, slowly, carefully. Shading their eyes as they winced at the sunlight, having not felt a ray of sunshine in almost a year. They stepped out into the yard, some taking note of the vast amount of bodies littering it, shocked, appalled, disgusted, saddened, while the rest step through the carnage like it was nothing new.

Tomas, the gun toting leader, spread his arms wide and tilted his face skyward, "Damn the sun feels good... Never thought I'd be so happy to see these fences."

"Lord... they're all dead." Axel, the oldest one, commented with a hint of horror in his voice.

"You never said, how the hell'd you get in here in the first place." growled the one seemed to be the second most aggressive, Andrew.

"Cut a hole in that fence over there," Daryl explained, gesturing, "by that guard tower."

"That easy, huh?" Andrew seemed unimpressed.

"Where there's a will there's a way." Rick summed up.

"Easy for you to say." Andrew scoffed, while the biggest one and seemingly most curious, picked up a stick a poked at a decaying body on the ground.

He wondered as he stepped away from the body, "So what is this, like a disease?"

"Yeah. And we're all infected." Rick bluntly stated.

"Whad'a'you mean infected? You mean, like, AIDS or somethin'?" Axel sputtered.

"If I was to kill you, shoot an arrow into your chest," Daryl's example doubled as a warning, "You'd come back as one of these things. It's gonna happen to all of us..." and he tried hard not to think about the idea that maybe... maybe _they_ weren't so lucky to... that they were out there and- No... He wouldn't think about **that** possibility.

Tomas snapped, "Ain't no way this Robin Hood cat's responsible for killin' all these freaks."

"Must be 50 bodies out here," Andrew noted.

"Where'd you come from?" Tomas started slowly making his way toward Rick.

But Rick didn't falter, he'd seen, heard and even smelled things that these guys could never even dream of, a few convicts weren't going to have Rick shaking in his boots, "Atlanta."

"Where you headed?"

And so it was going to start again, a shouting match, a pissing contest, no doubt weapons would be drawn again. But Rick was a wise man. He could read these guys.

"For now, no where."

Tomas, surprisingly, nodded. Unsurprisingly though, he stated, "Guess you could take that area down there near the water. Should be comfortable."

"We're using that field for crops."

"We'll help you move your gear out," Tomas tried to play the unbothered act too, the high and mighty, fear me angle. But it wasn't going to work. Not on this group of survivors.

"That won't be necessary. We took out these walkers, this prison is ours."

"Slow down, cowboy."

"You snatched the locks off our doors!" Andrew, though small, made up for his lack of height with voice and enthusiasm.

"We'll give you new locks, if that's how you want it." Rick said.

"This is our prison. We were here first."

"Locked in the broom closet," Rick taunted, but a second later he was serious, "We took it. Set you free. It's ours. We spilled blood."

"We're moving back into our cell block," Tomas decided.

"You'll have to get your own."

"It _is_ mine. I still got personal artifacts in there. That's about as _mine_ as it can get." And as predicted, tempers flared and Tomas pulled out the security guard's gun and pointed it at Rick. T and Daryl were quick to point their weapons straight back at the offender, but Rick didn't even flinch or make a move to grab his own piece.

"Woah, woah, woah." Axel, the most peaceful of the group, came to stand alongside Rick and Tomas, "Maybe let's try to make this work out so everybody wins."

"I don't see that happening..." Tomas grumbled.

"Neither do I," Rick rumbled right back.

"I ain't goin' back into that cafeteria for one whole minute."

"There are other cell blocks," Axel reasoned.

"You could leave. Try your luck out on the road," Daryl suggested gruffly.

For a few long moments Tomas looked around at his fellow inmates, at the strangers- the survivors, considering everything before speaking again, "These three pussies could do all this. The least we could do is take out another cell block."

"With what?" the biggest asked.

"Atlanta here will spot us some real weapons. Won't you, boss..." Where Jo's 'boss' comment had been light hearted, it was a true statement, Rick was the leader of the pack, what he says goes, it was understood. But Tomas' was a snide remark, mocking.

A flicker of a smirk came over Rick's mouth before he wondered, "How stocked is that cafeteria? Must have plenty of food. Five guys lasting almost a year..."

"Doesn't look like anybody's been starvin'," Daryl noted, crossbow still aimed unwavering at Tomas' skull.

"There's only a little left," came the response.

"We'll take half. In exchange, we'll help clear out a cell block." Rick set the offer out, though it wasn't much of an offer, it was more of a plan... a transaction.

"Didn't you hear him?" Andrew took a step toward Rick, "There's only a little left."

"Bet you got more food than you got choices," Rick said, "You pay we'll play. We'll clear out a block for you and you keep to it."

Tomas eyed the former small town sheriff in front of him for a moment before giving a short nod, "Deal..."

The tension seemed to ease, but only slightly. Daryl lowered his crossbow, but didn't dare let those inmates walk behind him, or Rick, or T for even a second. They all started back toward the gate that led to the door back inside.

Sometimes, in the silence, things may be heard that aren't truly there- at least Daryl had experienced it a lot over the past eight months, a trick played on the ears by imagination. He lost count of the times he thought he heard Lacey calling his name or Sam's laughter. A few times he even thought he heard Robert's slurring voice and cackles. So when there was a far off barking sound, Daryl simply ignored it. Summing up to himself that it was indeed just another trick of his mind, and he probably needed some more sleep once this shit was over with.

But then he saw the confused, interest peeked looks on the others faces, even the prisoners. And the barking... didn't cease... In fact, it grew louder as it continued.

T glanced among the men, before stammering slightly, "Is that a... dog...?"

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_Don't forget to swing by the tumblr page. ahiddenbanshee . Nonsensical bullshit and the like. No one's pressuring you though, shh, calm down._

_Also, thanks (again) to Rexi, just 'cuz she's a babe ;)_


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey there! Just in case some didn't see that Chapter 2 is no longer just the first half and missed out, check that out before you continue! Thanks to all readers. Special thanks to my sweet Beta, Rexi and DeviantDames.**

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"There's nothing wrong about it... No... It's fine, I think. Electricity, heating and cooling, buildings that are totally intact, roofs and rooms. Oh, and running water, that's pretty nice. I can't remember the last time I felt hot water and saw my actual skin color... Actually, I _can_ remember the last time I encountered a hot shower, _and_ the event that preceded said shower, but... heh," she blushed and smirked, "I don't want to overwhelm you with gritty details." She paused before continuing, "Security is tight, that's nice. Doesn't mean I can rest easy though. I'm still sleeping with one eye open, muscles taut, and just ready to... to spring into action, ya know?" she dropped her voice into a whisper, "And not just because of the walkers."

"Now, I know what you're gonna say. '_Ooh, but these people saved you. How could you even muster an ill thought toward them?_' Well, I'll tell you how I can muster it. They're not _all_ bad people- I'll give them that. They're all the same- _we're_ all the same. We look for someone to guide us. We look for someone strong, and intelligent, and brave. Someone who's got their shit together, ya know what I mean? That's what these people have done, aaall these people are looking to the one man who they call 'leader'... Well... They don't call him 'Leader', they call him Governor. I mean... That's his title at least, couldn't be his name... Could it? No. That'd be... weird. But... uhm, what was I talking about?... Mustered thoughts! That's right! It's the Governor. The Governor's the one I think ill of..."

"I'm not saying he's a bad dude, but dude... something isn't right. I can feel it. It's like a... like a sense, ya know? Just... sort of sketchy... The sort of guy you don't want to turn your back to. Which I don't. I keep my eyes on him... Not like that, either. I'm a faithful lady, I don't mess around. I'm a married woman, damn it. See? See this ring, right there on my finger, that's my promise. My-my reminder, not that I need one, but it's a, it's a-a-a symbol, yeah. And it also works as a repellent sometimes, a bonus feature. Oh, and I bet it doesn't feel so great when it comes rocketing at your face with a fist attached to it, heh, another delightful feature... But what I'm trying to tell you, is that sure, the Governor's a handsome fellow, but I'm not thinking about it like that... especially not when I just said I wouldn't turn my back to him... Hey, now wait a minute, keep your mind out of gutter... Oh, fine, that's where mine went anyway, too. Heh... Do you think he's- no! Nope! We're not touching on that. Married woman, remember? Though I'm not saying a married gal can't let her thoughts stray, but _I_ most certainly am not letting my mind wander in _that_ direction. Nuh uh. Nooo."

"Oh, I can't believe this, how has this conversation even made it to where it is now? Ugh, you just get me talking and it'll go from puppies to promiscuity in moments... As I was saying, this isn't a bad place, just the guy who's running the show, he doesn't seem to right in the head. Hell, I was brought here against my will, and he gave out this story about his men finding me beaten, bloodied and minus a baby and it was just by _**luck**_- wonderful, splendid, life saving _luck_ that they found me in time... Now I'm the town loon. Which isn't _so_ bad. The stares get sort of aggravating, but people keep their distance as if insanity is contagious and that's just fine with me. Rude. But fine. I mean, it's the end of the goddamn world, right? We got living dead cannibals as a constant threat to our lives but that crazy girl, oh no, don't talk to her, don't even look at her, keep walking, quickly before she infects us with her madness. We're all mad here, though... Aren't we? You have to be, just a little bit at least, to live in this world... Initiation is taking a life. Madness. Madness, I say!" she laughed quietly.

"You know, you and I aren't so different from each other," she mumbled, picking away at the chipped nailpolish on her nails, flaking the paint away in little bits, "Like I said, most of the time people are turning tail when they see me, but I don't mean any harm... at all. Seriously. I'm harmless. And the same could be said for you. Just because you look completely disgusting and appallingly frightful, they'll freak. But you're harmless... maybe... I mean, I know _I'm_ harmless, but who knows what devious shit goes on in your mind. You might even be one of those venomous kinds," she smiled at her nails, "Well, it was nice talking to you, buddy. Lovely to have someone listen, that's just... so kind of you." She takes her gaze away from her nails, placing her palms against the dirt she looked at the spider a foot or so away from her, contained by a circle of twigs.

"Oh dear, here comes the difficult part. The goodbye. They're always tough, aren't they? I'll try to keep the tears to a minimum, no promises though. If you cry, then I cry... Sorry about your web by the way. Beautiful craftsmanship honestly. I didn't have any intention of destroying it the way I did, but then look where it brought us. Chatting each other up like old friends... But..." she sighs, "It's getting dark. Curfew and all that, I should head in before search parties are sent out..." she sighed, giving a slight eye roll.

"Now here's the deal... something I've learned in this fucking horrid, new world- no one can be trusted. People can't be trusted just as much as walkers can't. Everyone is out to get you, out to kill you. And who am I to know if you ain't a cold blooded killer that'll slash my throat wide open the moment I go to walk away? Sure, you're a wonderful conversation companion, but... Sorry buddy."

She scooted her boot out gingerly, biting her lip and wincing as she squished the arachnid and snapped the twigs encircling it into the dirt. She pulled her foot back, the smashed remains of the spider, thankfully, left on the ground and not embedded into the sole of her shoe. "Who am I to make such a decision to extinguish a life?" she wondered aloud, dramatically as she stood up, a hand on her chest as if reciting a Shakespearian soliloquy, "A girl who doesn't like spiders, that's who. That little bastard could've followed me back to my room, could've bit me. And that would've itched something awful. Give me walkers, okay? But a spider bite too? Oh, the horror. _Oh!_ The tragedy..."

She brushed herself off of the dirt that clung to her clothes. She'd been sitting between a guard wall and a building for at least an hour, talking to a spider she'd literally stumbled upon. The web stuck to her arms as she walked, causing her to squirm- instinctive reaction- and shake the stuff away, and finding it's constructor was one who wouldn't be so easy to shake off. That's when she sat down, and created a fortress out of twigs before catching the spider before it crawled into her shirt and let it loose there and then the conversation began...

She knew the little, secure town easily. Strolling lazily as she wandered back to her quarters, pretending not to notice the way some of the residents quickened their pace when she caught their eye. Seriously. Like she had explained to the spider. It's not like she was dangerous... at least not to them.

"Lacey. Where you been, girly?" then there was him. That one person that wasn't scared of her, the one person that knew her, her only friend here.

She shrugged, meeting him on the porch of their quarters. They'd given her a warden, a caretaker to live with her, keep her in line and 'safe'. "Just sharing friendly conversation with one of the locals."

"Is that right?" he, and a few others, had grown used to her behavior, taking it in stride, understanding it as the norm. But he was the one she was most comfortable with, the one she solely trusted in this craze-hole called Woodbury. [Something she still got a chuckle out of now and again.]

She nodded and slipped past him, humming a, "Mhm," as she did.

"Think ya feel like talkin' some more?"

"The daily memory jog. Haven't done one of those in a while. Sure," and with that she opened the door for herself and walked into the house.

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_8 Months Earlier_

"You're alive..." her breath had left her in a gasp, her eyes were still wide with shock as a smile pulled on her lips. Her hands scrambled at the sheets as she tried to get out of the bed, but a stab of pain from... from basically all over ceased all movement and she hissed, wincing.

Merle Dixon himself stepped out of the shadows, the snark in his tone replaced with something akin to worry as he shushed her, "Easy there, sweetheart. You ain't in any kind of condition to be hoppin' outta bed like that."

"Sorry," she groaned, settling back on the bed carefully, comfortably, "I'm just..." she sighed, "Relieved... glad you're okay, alive."

"Didn't hear surprised," he noted with that snark in his tone again, pulling up a chair alongside her bed and taking a seat.

She scoffed, "Of course I'm not surprised, you're tough. The tough_est,_ probably. And besides, Daryl never lost faith in you, so neither did I... not that- that I would though."

Merle just chuckled, "Never thought I'd be a reason for you to stumble with your words and jump for joy."

"I wasn't going to jump for joy." she rolled her eyes with a smile, "I was going to jump _you_."

He let out another bark of laughter, "Well, hell, darlin', I can scoot right into bed with you if you really want me to."

The joking air dispersed from the room slowly, and Lacey's fingers began to twist and fist into the sheets on top of her, "Where, um, why exactly am I in a bed, and where are we...?"

"That ain't really my place to say, I'm pretty new here myself-," the sound of a door cracking open pulled Merle's attention behind him, there was a short nod before he turned back to Lacey. A smirk slowly came over his mouth as he touched a hand to her scratchy-sheet covered knee, giving it a squeeze before he stood up and spoke, "In time everything will be explained. For now you need to do as the doc says and rest up."

A frantic look flashed in her eyes, her fingers grabbed the sheets with a white knuckle grip and breath left her a quick gasps, "Bu-b-but-," she pleaded. Merle's eyes widened and the door behind him swung openly fully.

"Woah, woah!" Merle rested his hand atop hers, "Sweetheart, calm down. The surprises just keep comin', don't they. You was after me the whole time, weren't'cha?" he joked, but caution laced his tone. This wasn't the girl that had knocked him on his ass with a fist to the face, boot to the gut, and turned his own gun on him the first time they'd met. No. This was someone else.

He was caught off guard when her hands flew off the sheets to administer the same kind of death grip onto his hand, "D-Don't! You- you can't-!"

"Hey, hey!" This was a foreign situation to Merle, he was acting on instinct, hoping that his instincts in this predicament wouldn't fail him. He'd never had to console anybody before, and this panic Lacey was letting lose seemed to be accessible like a flick of a switch. Something was wrong, something was different. "Where's that tough bitch, huh? The one with that ridiculous name who was bangin' my brother in the woods like it was the world's best kept secret. Hm?"

"P-P-Perr-rin." she gasped.

The doctor urged him to step aside but he was confused, brow knitted together. What was happening here?

"Lacey-" he started, but the blonde just shook her head.

"Perrin."

He shot a glance at the doctor, looking back to Lac- Perrin, "Alright," he nodded, "It's gonna be alright, darlin'. The doc here'll take care of ya."

"You'll come back?" the girl who wasn't Lacey looked at him with terrified eyes.

He nodded, "I'll come back."

And with that confirmation the girl's hold loosened and the doc suggested he make his leave, she could handle things now.

Merle waited outside the door for ten minutes. The doctor stepped out and closed the door gently after her, letting out a sigh as she did.

"She gonna be alright?"

The doctor nodded, "She should be fine. Truthfully, I expected worse. It was a nervous breakdown, but you did well, calming her down. You said you knew her?"

"Yeah..." his hand slipped into his pocket, "Yeah, she and my brother had somethin' goin' on," his fingers rolled the object in his pocket around. "She wasn't like that the last time I saw her."

"Given the factors that led up to her arrival here I'm surprised she didn't break sooner. There's only so much we can take before it becomes too much."

It's Lacey first nervous breakdown that Merle is witness to. That is what it's deemed. The first event that would act as a marker for the beginning of events that would follow. A warning that had gone neglected. A warning that would lead to a psychotic break.

As promised Merle came back to the room where Lacey was being (held) taken care of in. Her demeanor instantly and visibly perking at the sight of him, "Hey," she smiled.

"Hey yourself, sweetheart. How ya feelin'?"

"Fine..." she mumbled as she twisted the sheets in her fists, "I'd feel better if I could get my things back."

Merle snorted at her sudden shy act, "You ain't got much, 'side from them ass kickin' boots a'yours and that sweater, the rest was so bloodied." he stated, "Couldn't be salvaged."

His eyes flickered to her where her flat, flat stomach lay under the blankets, "You'll get 'em back though. Once you're cleared by the doc."

She nodded before cautiously beginning, "That's... That's all you have of mine? My boots and sweater? There wasn't anything..." he noticed her fingers wringing together, "anything else?"

The ring. He'd taken it before anyone else tried to claim it. Stowing it in his pocket before his first visit with her the day previous. He reached across, into his left pocket. And that's when Lacey gasped with genuine shock, "Oh, my god!" And for a moment he thought she was about to burst into another fit. But when he looked up, he didn't see that terrified expression on her face, didn't see it in her eyes. What he did see was shock and hurt. Her hands clamped over her mouth as she eyed the device covering his stump.

"Like it?" he grinned a bitter grin, pausing in his efforts to retrieve the ring from his pocket to give his new handicap a wave and flourish, "Can thank your friend Officer Rick Friendly for this."

"I'm sorry." she gasped into her hands. She took her hands away from her mouth but couldn't stop staring at his... well... his lack of hand. "I honestly didn't notice 'til just now... Oh, god..."

Merle let out a chuckle, going back to trying to wrangle the ring from his pocket as he grumbled, "Don't worry about it, darlin'. You ain't the one that cuffed me to a damn roof and left me to rot."

"For the record, I was outraged. I wanted to go back for you right them but no one would here it. Daryl was out on a hunt and when he came back... Well... He and a few others went to go back and get you, but..." she trailed off with a shrug, "You were gone. But you're fine... and I can't fucking believe I forgot you... did _that_..."

"Warms my heart to know you raised a little hell on my behalf."

She gave a little shrug again, "You're my friend."

"More than friends," he said, brandishing the silver ring that looked positively teeny between his large fingers, "By the looks of this, I'd say we're in-laws now." he gave the ring another once over before handing it over to Lacey. She put it on with a sad smile on her mouth.

He leaned back in his chair, nodding toward her, "You didn't have that the last time I saw ya... Pretty sure you didn't have a bun in the oven when I saw ya last neither."

Lacey chuckles, "Yeah. That'll be your brother's work... By the way, how did you know we were screwing in the woods? I have an excellent poker face."

"Sure," Merle lets out an airy laugh, "You ain't so easy to read. But my brother... Surprised everybody didn't know just lookin' at his smugness on his dumb ass face," he shifts in his seat and snorts again, "So... made a man out of him, did'ja?"

"Many times." she grins, and hoped that she was winning the battle against the blush that's threatening to take over her face, but then the grin fell, "That's how that bun got there... when it **was** there."

"Didn't know he had it in him," Merle mumbled, hoping to get a rise out of her, but all he gets is a twitch at the corner of her mouth.

"So," he starts slowly after a few moments of silence, "I would'a been an uncle, huh? Uncle Merle. I could dig it. Least with you as its mama it woulda had a chance of bein' pretty, no thanks to my ugly brother."

Lacey let out a laugh. And for a while they just talked about what would've been, nothing of sorrow in their voices anymore, purely comical.

"So..." Merle said, once the laughter had died down, "Story is you were found all by your lonesome in the forest. No weapons, no nothin', missin' your goddamn pants and bleedin' out. The guys found you 'n brought you here."

"Is that the story, then?" Lacey mused with a slight eye roll.

"You got a different version of it you'd like to share?"

And as if prompted, a voice in her mind, similar to her own told her to go with it, play the amnesia card. The less they know, the better it is.

"No," she shrugged, "That's pretty much how it happened, probably. I don't really remember much. All I know is I got separated from the group. Everyone got separated. There was a herd of walkers. And I'm shit awful with directions, that's how I got lost... But I guess that doesn't matter anymore, since I'm," she sighed, "since I'm safe here... I... I am safe here... Right?"

"Just as safe as you can be, darlin'. Especially with your good ol' brother-in-law Merle to protect ya."

Lacey smiled at the eldest Dixon. She really was glad he was alive, glad she'd found him again.

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"Alright." Merle walked in after her, pausing to lock the door behind him before heading into the kitchen where they usually had these 'memory jogs', "Now, where do ya wanna start. Last time w-"

He was interrupted by the sound of knocking at the door and he growled, grumbling under his breath as he turned on his heel, "S'that irritatin' bastard again. I swear, I'm gonna..."

Lacey couldn't hear much after that, just the faint sound of voices once the door's lock was pulled and the door wretched open.

"Mr. Dixon."

"Whad'ya want, boy."

"Is she in? It's curfew, and I was stopping by to check."

"Like you _always_ do, and she's _**always**_ here. She ain't stupid, ya know."

"I know that. She's just... I worry about her."

"Well don't. She's fine."

The door slams and the lock slides back into place, and Merle's steps were stomping back toward the kitchen, grumbling again.

"Can't that guy take a hint?" he grumbles toward Lacey.

She's simply sat at the table with her chin in her palm and she shrugged her shoulders, "He's concerned. Always been that way."

"One of these days the Gov'ner will let him into the fights, and then..." he trails off with wheezing, devious chuckles.

"I have a feeling this isn't just about defend my 'honor' anymore," she used her fingers as quote marks.

"Course it is... partially."

Lacey laughed out loud, half mocking half amused.

"Now back to talkin'. Focus, girly."

.

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**HOLY SHIT! I keep forgetting to put a disclaimer!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead! All I own are my silly little OC's.**


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: So most of you probably read the note, or at least glanced at it... maybe spotted the things in bold. Whatever! Anyway! To those of you that have offered your beta services, thank you! But the task has gone to a lovely Miss X23 Maximoff. So let's all give our collective thanks to XM please! And enjoy the holy freakin' crap long awaited chapter!

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"A few days worth of walking. Getting a good amount of rest, if we're lucky a solid five hours. Food's still a little tricky to come by, but you always manage to find us something edible." Sam was talking to Rocket again. It was something to prevent her from going crazy from the silence -at least she thought so- and it made the journey seem less harsh. She and Lacey used to talk a lot, she figured she picked it up from her. There hadn't been much time speaking with Andrea or Michonne.

"There's the occasional squirrel too." she chuckled quietly.

They were walking along the highway, the automobile graveyard, but Sam wasn't recognizing it. Everything, every place she'd been, all blended together in her mind. The ancient road map from the RV was lost months ago. She was relying on-

"Your animal instinct." Sam said, "It's never led us astray before. But, you know, a lot of the time Mich led us with her gut... And I-I don't mean she was fat, she's skinny, very flat stomach, you know what I mean. But... It was her instincts that were leading us. I'm not saying yours might be a little rusty, but your gut is looking very questionable... But this isn't about weight. Ugh," she wiped at her forehead like she might clean the ridiculous thoughts away.

"It's been a few days. It only took you less than half a day to find Andrea. Unless they're... gone... I-"

A growl cut Sam off.

"Okay, okay! I was just wondering. But you aren't, like... leading us to a death trap, right? You're not giving up? Serving us up to some corral of walkers you're sniffing out? Because I wouldn't let you do that, give up that way..." Sam paused in thought, "Though I'm pretty sure animals aren't infected. I mean, then we'd truly be screwed. But it's strictly a human thing. But... if it was possible... I wouldn't let you turn into one of them. No..."

Rocket kept on at a determined pace, her ears perked up though. Her ears perked a lot, most of the time she'd catch a sound, something in the distance. A walker, or a herd, to lead them away from. Some animal Sam might be able to make into dinner. Or sometimes, as Sam had begun to believe over the last eight months, she was truly listening.

"I couldn't let you turn... And I hope that goes the same for me, with you..."

A few minutes of quiet passed before Sam couldn't take it anymore. They passed some ruins of what might've been a house, a tiny house. A shack made from stone?

"Do you ever wonder if she survived? And the baby too? Like maybe she didn't lose it, maybe it's just as strong as her? She'd probably have it by now. It... Not an it. A girl or a boy... As much as I'd hope a girl, I think she'd have a boy. A boy half Black and half Dixon." she laughed, "That boy would... insurmountable... like... just- incredible. An asskicker, that's for sure. Hey woah-" she paused, noting the significant speed up of Rocket's pace, "What is it? Is it the baby talk? Okay, alright! I'll tone it down. But you've got to admit that baby would be totally gorgeous. Rocket. Rocket! Wait up!"

Sam's bow was ever-present in her grip. She held it tighter and slapped a hand to the grip of Lacey's sword that hung from her side, and broke into a jog after Rocket had bursted into a run. Her bag banged annoyingly at the back of knees as she tried to keep up with the hound. Calling after her didn't slow her down; in fact, it didn't cause her to falter at all. She'd caught a scent, she must have, and she was following it before she lost it.

.

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They couldn't see the source. They could hardly see much beyond the perimeter fence. But the barking **is** real. There was no doubt about that. They all heard. It wasn't a trick of the mind, or somehow some peculiar sound created by a walker- No. It's real, and it sounded like it was getting closer. Even the walkers were starting to hear it to, they were turning away from the survivors within the prison to the sounds outside of the prison. Between the barking there were growls, vicious growls, and then... then a... But it couldn't be... a voice?

.

.

"I was reminded of a food salvaging mission I led up just a couple months ago. Oh, it was marvelous. All on my own." Sam breathed as she tried, and succeeded in keeping up with Rocket, or at least keeping her in sight, "Lots of secret agent kind of stuff, yes. Sneaking around, target practice really. Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot. Walkers everywhere. Picking up an arrow out of a skull, while loading another arrow, with another arrow ready between my teeth. That's when I knew," she chuckled as she sprinted, easily hopping over fallen logs and sinking down to bypass low branches, "I was **born** for the apocalypse. And the apocalypse was created for m-," she stuttered to a halt, seeing Rocket continue on toward the high fenced-topped with razor wire-surrounded, grey bricked, dismal building that screamed one thing- "What the hell is this!? You brought us to a **prison**?"

Rocket ignored her, and launched herself at slow moving walkers that were just now hearing her barks. Sam let out a sigh and reached for an arrow.

"Is this some kind of morality thing? Like my... my just deserts, are you _even_ capable of judging me? You're a DOG!" she sent an arrow sailing into a quicker moving walker. Those that had taken notice of Rocket were now taking notice of her as well, and started to close in, "I mean, you give the occasional acknowledging growl, and the... and the canine version of the stink eye sometimes, but that's just like... That's just what you do! You're sassy, and it's freakin' ridiculous. You're a dog! You can't judge me! How could you bring me here!? Ah! Rocket! Help!"

.

All of them were trying to pinpoint the source, and it was finally T who ventured the wondering, "That Rocket?" It was quiet, but it was a heard assumption. While the prisoners didn't even spare a moment to ask for an explanation, Rick's eyes widened the slightest bit and he looked to Daryl. The three men seemed to share the same thought as they exchanged glances, 'If that's Rocket, then...'

.

"You brought me to a prison. A PRISON! Full of undead murderers, rapists, psychos and tax evaders alike! Rocket, what the hell, I thought we was chill, baby! We were in this together! SHIT!" she cursed when a walker was closing in quicker than she could load an arrow and Rocket was busy with one of her own.

She plucked the arrow seated in mouth away and shoved it through the walkers eye socket, pushing all the way until its grabbing hands ceased to grab before she yanked it back out.

"Shit, shit, shit." she mumbled, and took Lacey's sword from its makeshift scabbard and ran through the shambling bodies to where Rocket was, "Shit, Rocket."

.

The three were starting for the fence, Daryl's shot walkers in their path until they reached the first gate, Rick took down any that Daryl didn't get. They were running toward the perimeter fence when they heard the sound of blade slicing through flesh and meat. But then there was a sort of shucking sound, the sound of a blade stuck at the bone.

.

"This better not be you giving up, Rocket! Or am I going to be _sooo_ very disappointed in you!"

The blade was stuck in bone, "Shit." Sam groaned and raised her foot to plant it against the walkers chest and gave it a large shove to dislodge the sword. The walker fell with a growl and Sam took the trench knife from her belt to lay it heavily into its skull.

.

The sound of fight kept on. Walkers thump to the ground, the dog growls and barks, its jaws snapping and yanking, a blade slices through flesh, a knife sinks though skin and bone with a less-sickening-than-it-used-to-be crack and crunch.

"Lacey!" Daryl finally broke when they were a good yard away from the fence.

.

Sam perked up, pulling the knife from the corpse and standing up, looking all around. She was crazy, she was sure of it. She hadn't really just heard... "Daryl?"

.

They made it to the fence, beyond it there were at least nine bodies on the ground and more piling up as they ambled toward the vicious hound- and it was indeed Rocket. They'd not seen muzzle or tail of any other dog since Lacey and Sam had departed with Rocket leading the way. There was no other dog that did as Rocket did. Lunge straight at walkers? No, not with the intent she had.

And there was another -just **one** other- the sword wielder, but it wasn't the blonde they had expected, it was-

"It's Sam." Rick grunted as they witnessed the girl swing the long blade with unpracticed hands. It sunk into a walkers side, but got stuck halfway. Rocket finished off one of her own before she pounced, assisting Sam.

"Sam!" Rick called out for her, trying to get her attention, and T joined in, shaking at the chain link to get some of the heat off her. She and Rocket are a distance away from the fence, but Sam hears them.

Her gaze swept all around her until her eyes landed on them. A look came across her face and she looked like she might collapse, knees wobbling, but she steeled herself and sprinted to the fence. She nearly slammed right against it, fingers reaching through the links to meet Rick's though her hands were full. She let out a breathy little laugh, an uncontainable smile took over her mouth, and her eyes were taking on a glossy sheen.

"Rocket!" her head turned as she called for the hound, her body following the direction, "Rocket! Leave it! Let's go!"

Rocket finished off another walker before she ran and jumped up on the fence, a whine escaped her at the sight and scent of familiar people. The people she was seeking out. Their people- Their family.

"Past catching up to you too?" she breathed with a chuckle, "I never thought I'd say this, but let me in and lock me up, officer."

Rick smiled briefly before he released Sam's hand from his grasp and took out a heavy blade of his own, "Sam, you just keep runnin' along this fence 'til you the find the place we came in from. Daryl, open it for her, T and I will distract the walkers."

Sam nodded, sheathing the sword, pulling out the trench knife instead, she flexed her grip around it, "Got it. Rocket, c'mon, go." she gestured for the dog and she bolted.

Walkers were drawn to Rick and T's loud show, but some still went for the dog and girl, some blocked their path. Rocket went for ankles opposed for going for the neck, yanking the mobile dead heads down and moving onto the next as she kept up with Daryl on the other side of the fence.

Sam shoved the knife under a walker's jaw, jerking it upward with a force she'd acquired over the past months she'd never had in the world _before_. Daryl pulled the rope out of the links as quickly as possible, Sam holding off walkers as he did. Rick and T ran over, and drew in what they could as Rocket pawed at the dirt under the fence that separated her and Sam from the men.

Daryl was nearing the bottom of the fence, a foot of rope still laced through the links, "That's good! That's enough! Open it up!" Rick pulled one side of the fence wide open while Daryl did the same with the other side.

Rocket jumped through.

Walkers were still stumbling their way, but there were a good ten feet off. Sam turned toward the opening in the fence and was basically yanked through.

The heaviest sighs of relief escaped her when she was clutched to a hard chest, distantly she could hear Rick bark out orders for T to lace the gate back up while he takes care of the walkers that were getting closer. Sam tried to catch her breath now while her fingers let their grip on her weapons go limp. She recognized the arms around her, touched the familiar material and inhaled the familiar scent that clung to it. Quiet breaths of laughter left her lungs, it was all she could do to keep herself from crying. Daryl just held her closer when her hands touched onto his shoulders, not letting her crumble when he felt her legs give out for a brief moment.

Daryl mumbled under his breath, it was hard to decipher but it sounded like, "It's okay, 's'alright."

The gate was closed up again, and Daryl brushed a hand over Sam's hair once Rick nodded that they were secure. It was a few more moments before Sam pulled her face away from the chest it was hidden in and took a half step back to actually look up into Daryl's face. A few tears lingered on her face, most likely unknowingly shed, and she grinned brightly at him as she cinched her arms tightly around his waist again. After a moment she pulled away fully, laughing as she hugged T next and then Rick.

"Good to see you, kid." Rick allowed himself a real smile for the moment as he gently thumbed the tears away from Sam's cheeks.

"Same here," she chuckled, beside Rick's legs Rocket nudged her head against his knee, whining, "Rocket missed you too."

Rick petted the dogs head, but then sighed morosely, "We'd better get back to our _company_." He started back along the perimeter where they came from.

Not too far in the distance Sam could make out some dirty, blue jump-suited figures looking confused, terrified, and amazed all at once.

"Making friends with the neighbours, huh?" Sam mumbled as she stooped down to pick up the knife and her bow. She wiped the blade in the small patch of grass beneath the fence and stowed in its sheath. She saw some of the jump-suited men standing stern faces, others slack jawed.

"Not exactly. We came to an agreement though." T explained and picked up his pace to catch up with Rick and Rocket.

"We cleared out a cell block. 'pparently it was theirs, they want us to leave. But we're gonna clear out a block for them in exchange for half their food 'n promise to stay out of each other's sights." Daryl said.

"Good deal," Sam nodded as they grew closer to the group, "I take it they're not the friendly type of high security convicted felons."

Daryl just snorted a scoff.

The tension was thick and obvious between the prisoners and survivors, and was becoming more so when Daryl and Sam came to stand by Rick.

"'Nother one of yours?" Tomas' chin jutted forward in a nod at Sam.

"Yeah," the 15 year old adjusted her bow hanging from her grip, "I just decided to go on an eight month long leisurely jaunt, got lost a couple times but I'm back now. That alright with you, chief?"

Tomas coughed out a laugh, his eyes took in all of Sam from where she stood flanking Rick. All dirt, grime and walker essence caked clothes and skin, compound bow held firmly in her left hand, a hand-crafted arm guard made from scraps of leather around her forearm, shashka and hand-made scabbard hanging off her hip, another, shorter, sheathed blade poked out from her pocket, a bag looking more empty than anything on her back, and a quiver of arrows. Her cheeks were stained pink from the exertion of the fight earlier, mess of hair tied up into a floppy bun, eyes squinted into a glared that matched her mocking tone. But the expression with appearance added didn't detour him, and Tomas clicked his tongue against his cheek before he shrugged, "Fine with me, baby."

Rocket growled when he shifted his footing, even if he hadn't planned on venturing a step toward her, Rocket wasn't taking any chances. Sam rose a sweaty, dirty, and bloodied brow. Rick stepped forward, a protest forming on his lips as a hand pressed against Tomas' chest, Daryl grabbed Sam's arm and pulled her back.

Tomas' just about shouted over Rick, "First woman I seen in a _long_ time-,"

Daryl put her behind him and moved to raise his crossbow but Sam stepped into full sight, talking louder, "Woah! Buddy! I'm gonna just stop you there. Did you grow up in a goddamn barn? _This_," she waved her hand toward the building and all around them that was surrounded by fences, "is a place of **corrections**. Thought you might've learned something while you were locked up. At the least some tact. _Jesus_."

"Just wanna be behind that, 's'all I'm sayin'." Tomas took a step back when Rick shoved him, but his eyes stayed on Sam.

"Yeah?" she grinned, "Well, like you said. It's been a _long_ time. Wouldn't want to change the pace for ya. Why don't you get one of your buddies here to get behind _you_ instead."

The smug expression on Tomas' face vanished, a scowl took over as he moved to retaliate but Rick just pressed his hand firmly against his chest again, "Let's be clear," Rick growled, "If we see you out here... Anywhere our people... If I so much as even catch a whiff of your scent... I _will_ kill you."

Tomas flashed a glare at Sam, whose mouth was twisted up in a triumphant smirk, before he looked back to Rick and nodded, "Deal."

They started back into the building, the darkness a sharp contrast compared to the brightness outside.

"I'll take you back to the block. Girls'll be excited to see ya." Daryl said, and moved to guide Sam the opposite direction of where the rest were headed.

"No, I'm good. And they've waited this long, they can wait a little longer," she insisted, "I'll help clear out another cell block with you guys."

Daryl's shoulders stiffened in a way they hadn't in a long time, whenever someone, namely those that had really grown on him, chose to not sit something out, "Sis, I don't thin-"

"Look at me," Sam took a few steps away from him and raised her arms, spinning around once as she did so, "Do I look starved, or sickly? I'm a little tired, sure, but who isn't these days? Hard to get a restful night's sleep when the fact that dead head cannibal creeps inhabiting most of the earth is constantly on your mind, but I'm good to go." she dropped her arms to her sides and flashed him a grin.

He rolled his eyes. There wasn't any way to talk her out of it, he was fully aware of that. And from what he had witnessed of her outside the prison fences she'd come a long way from that girl asking for shooting lessons, "Just stay close to me."

"Yeah, yeah," she waved him off smally, "Sure. Just stay out of my aim." a smirk grew on her mouth as they caught up with the group.

Daryl scoffed a short laugh, "Little bitch. Road and time's made you tough, huh?"

"Damn right."

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They were guided by the prisoners back to the cafeteria. Daryl quietly promised after they cleared out the block he'd catch Sam up to speed on what happened while she was absent. He didn't dare raise the questions that burned on his tongue like a hot coals begging to be spat out. They screamed and echoed in his mind, '_Where is she? Where is she! Where is she?!' 'Why isn't she with you?' 'What happened!?_' But he swallowed them- now was hardly the time or place. Just like the stories he'd tell her later, in time she'd share her tales as well.

"Pantry's back here." Tomas led the way, the prisoners filed in while the survivors stayed nearest to the door.

T glanced around, the chairs were dusty, so were the tables, the windows were clouded over, "Never tried to break out of here?"

"Yeah," the one called Oscar said, "We tried to take the doors off. But if you make one peep in here, those freaks'd be lined up outside the door- growling, tryin' to get in. Windows got bars on them that He-Man couldn't get through."

"What about She-Ra?" Sam smirked and received a nudge from Daryl.

"Bigger than a five by eight." Axel noted quietly.

"Won't find me complainin'," the biggest stated, "My left leg would barely fit on one of those bunks."

Sam smiled, she couldn't really contain it. The last few days were the first she'd had completely alone, from human contact that is, and she was glad to be in the company of people again, especially some with a sense of humour.

"They don't call him Big Tiny for nothin'." Oscar added, and Rick smirked for a moment.

Tomas' voice broke through, half his body hung through the kitchen doorway, "We done jerking each other off? Sick of waitin' back here."

"Class..." Sam breathed, then mumbled for Rocket to stay by the door with her. Daryl gave her a nod and followed the rest of the men into the kitchen. Sam stepped a few paces to catch a view of the guys through the doorway, she had an arrow ready, just in case.

From where she stood she could hear their voices, "This what you call 'a little bit of food'?"

"Goes fast." Tomas snapped back.

A hummed, '_mmhm_', was just barely heard and she smothered a grin.

"You can have a... bag of corn. Some tuna fish-,"

"I said half. That's the deal," that was Rick's authoritative tone, "What's in there?" there was a warning before a door was pulled open and immediately after the sound of choking followed, Sam winced.

"He wanted to know." chuckles surround the comment.

Sam rolled her eyes and scratched behind Rocket's ears, "Surprised there's intelligence enough to centralize an area for leavings. Just as smart as a zoo animal, there's hope yet!" she grumbled, and smirked when Rocket let out a heavy sigh.

"Can't wait for my own pot to piss in." Axel mumbled.

.

.

Rick and T went back to C Block with arms bearing treasure, only some of what was to come. T explained that there was more where that came from, _a_ _lot_ more. They decided to conceal the fact that Sam and Rocket were among their loot and a part of their group again. It was a delicate time after all, with Hershel still passed out in his bunk from his lack of limb and major blood loss. To take the concern away would seem impolite. But just the same, if he died, bringing Sam and Rocket out would always coincide with his death. For now they wouldn't say anything.

"Need any help?" Jo wondered, but then courteously stepped away when Lori approached Rick.

From the corner of his eye Jo could see Carl, Sophia and Erin whispering among themselves. It made him smile, the sort of sense of normality it brought. As if they were gossiping on the school yard at recess. School... The prison was the best find they had in a long time. They would have stability here. A shade of what normal used to be. He wondered if he could convince Rick to allow him to search out for a library after all the stuff with the prisoners was over with.

"So... So do what ever you gotta do to keep this group safe. And do it with a clear conscience." Lori whispered to her husband, and for a moment Rick just clenched his jaw before walking off.

Jo stepped up, before he and T disappeared again, "So need any help yet? Getting the rest of the food?"

"Not yet. We still have to clear out a block for them. Once that's done though..." Rick said, and he and T were quickly out of sight again, Jo locked the block door after them.

He turned his back to the bars and leaned against them. He puffed out a sigh and looked back to the kids. Carl was talking, and a series of nods from the girls came after his words...

.

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Rick, T, Daryl, Sam and Rocket stood off to the side while the prisoners looked over the assortment of weapons laid out on the table in front of them. Each weapon was meant for bludgeoning, no guns were offered, which led to the obvious wondering from Tomas of, "Why do I need this," he dropped the crowbar that had previously been in his hand, and pulled out the corrections officers handgun, "When I got _this_...?"

"You don't fire guns." Daryl explained simply, "Not unless your back's up against a wall. Noise attracts 'em. Really riles 'em up."

"We'll go in two by two. Daryl will run point with T. Sam, you stay close to me, alright?" Rick stated the plan, Sam nodded, adjusting her grip on her bow, Rick continued, "I'll bring up the rear with you." he pointed Andrew.

"Stay tight. Hold formation no matter how close the walkers get. Anyone breaks ranks we could all go down. Anyone runs off they could get mistaken for a walker and end up with an axe to the head." Rick addressed the prisoners.

"Or an arrow." Sam mumbled and put her bow down to remove her bag which left the quiver of arrows to be the only thing on her back.

"That's where you aim. These things only go down with a head shot." Daryl added.

"Y'ain't gotta tell us how to take out a man." Tomas grumbled.

Rick pulled out his flashlight and machete, "Just remember to go for the brain."

"Rocket, stay here." Sam instructed and crouched down in front of the hound, she pet down her side, "Be back soon." she added in a whisper and circled her arms around her in a brief hug.

Daryl and T went in first, then the prisoners, followed by Rick, Andrew and Sam at the very end. A whine left Rocket's throat just before Sam disappeared into the darkness.

"Man, it's too damn dark in here." Oscar stated with obvious terror in his tone, his flashlight's light inching along the walls.

"Gotta hold it up high." Daryl directed proper flashlight holding technique, and Sam muffled any kind of snort that wanted to come out, "You're gonna hear 'em before you see' em."

And not a moment after Daryl had said it, up ahead of them they could hear the shuffling of feet, growls.

"It's comin'!" Axel's observation was frantic, caused the rest of the group to hiss '_shhh_'.

They came to a halt when the sight of silhouetted ambling corpses were against the wall, coming their way. They waited, and waited until the walkers came around the corner and started toward them with more vigour. It was quiet aside from the steps of the reanimated cannibals, but then suddenly-

With (what _they_ probably considered) war cries the prisoners launched forward. They threw all the advice and instruction from Rick, Daryl and T straight to the wind. They went at them like it was a fight in the mess hall, or out in the yard, as if these living dead things could actually put aside their unending hunger to put up a fight.

Rick and Sam came to stand beside Daryl and T and simply watched the prisoners go at it. They ganged up on the three walkers, kicking at ribs, stomachs and kidneys, stabbing in the same areas too, but the walkers just kept on growling and snapping at them.

"Well," Sam muttered, "That's one way to do it... _If_ you wanted to do it the wong way." She sighed, raising her bow to take aim at the walker they still had standing, "Oooh, convicts. Don't they just warm your heart?"

"That's enough outta you, sis." Daryl grumbled, and kept his smirk at bay. She just chuckled and let the arrow fly.

After that the criminals calmed down enough to let the survivors actually take care of the walkers. And then they moved on, moving through the prison to get to the next cell block.

"It's gotta be the brain. Not the stomach, not the heart. The brain." Daryl said as they came upon another corridor that warned them with growls and groans, one stumbled out toward them and he let a bolt go, "Sis," another one tumbled through the archway toward them, Sam stepped forward while Daryl loaded up another bolt.

"Got it." she let her arrow go, and hurried over to the corpse just as it fell, retrieving her arrow and Daryl's bolt from where they were once embedded in skulls. She quickly stepped back and wiped away the gore with what she called the yuck cloth, "Your turn, delinquents."

Two more started in and Oscar and Axel stepped forward cautiously, they went for the head this time and the walkers crumbled instantly. The walkers didn't come in single file after that; the flood gates opened and Sam was letting arrow after arrow go. Rick, T and Daryl didn't hesitate, while the prisoners started to anxious.

"Stay in tight formation. No more prison riot crap." Rick ordered, the corridor started to get cramped, but as long as they did as Rick said they would be fine, "Sam switch."

Sam let one more arrow fly before she stepped back behind Rick and dropped her bow to take out Lacey's sabre and knife.

All was under control until there was a shout from down the corridor where Tiny had strayed from the group. He managed to beat away two walkers, but one not well enough. It had snuck up behind him, and tore into the flesh of his back with just the bone of its arm. While Tiny shouted out in terror and pain another walker started at him from the front. Rick caught the first one, then- three shots. Three, loud, echoing bangs. The one that got Tiny fell, Tomas held the gun.

The miniature hoard was finished off, and they took time to assess the wound in Big Tiny's shoulder. It was deep, a gash from jagged bone, deep and still bleeding.

"I'm tellin' you, I don't feel anythin. It's nothin', it's just a scratch." Tiny reasoned as he turned around to face his fellow inmates and the survivors.

Sam chewed on her lip, "That's no scratch, big boy." Subconsciously she rubbed at her arm. The scar just a crooked line of white knitted skin on her forearm, like a cut from glass, or a scrape from a trip. Nothing compared to what the problem was on the biggest con's back.

"She's right. I'm sorry." Rick said.

"I can keep fightin'!" Tiny exclaimed.

"You could cut that old guys leg off to save his life." Andrew gestured to the open air.

"Wait! Whose leg is cut off?" Sam's question went ignored.

"Look at where the bite is." Rick said hushed.

"Guy, I'm fine!" Tiny raised his voice, "Just!-" he paused, and took a breath, letting it sigh out before he spoke calmly, "I'm fine. Look. Look at me. I'm not changing into one of those things."

Oscar stepped forward, "Look man, there has to be something we can do. We can just lock him up."

"Quarantine." Axel agreed. But the survivors merely stayed quiet, looking solemn. Exchanging knowing glances.

"We gotta do something! Why you just standing there? We gotta save him!" Andrew hit a frantic note.

"No amount of cleaning could prevent infection. It's the infection that'll do him in. It's too deep." Sam explained with an apology in her voice, she rested her hand on Tiny's arm briefly.

"There's nothing we can do." Rick stated with finality.

Andrew stared at him for a moment before he muttered, "You son of a bitch."

"I don't wanna di-," Tiny's words were cut short.

In the brief moment it took to blink, Big Tiny was struck down. Sam gasped and stumbled when Tomas stepped forward and continued to brutally beat Tiny's head in far more than was necessary. Daryl caught her arm when she nearly tripped over her own feet in an effort to get away from the violence. T pulled her along further away, shielding her from the gore, but she already saw the worst of it. Repeated, unrelenting strikes until it finally stopped and he stood up again, breathing heavily. Bits of meat, skin, brain and skull were smashed together on the floor, just barely connected to the body. The blood spattered all over Tomas, if he wasn't an unsettling sight before... No words were exchanged, only glances. The bloodied con led the way now, the rest followed silently.

Daryl shot a look at Sam, her eyes were wide and terrified. Sure, they killed walkers as if it were as easy as breathing. Sure, Big Tiny would've eventually developed an infection in his wound that would start the fever he would succumb to and he'd come back as a walker, but... The infection hadn't begun, there was no fever. He was still alive... And Tomas just-

She met his gaze, a wordless conversation shared- a wondering, a warning, a statement. And she gave a nod in understanding, fingers adjusting the grip on the knife in her hand.

In the quiet, as they continued down corridors letting the criminals lead the way, there was the faint sound of leaking pipes, the drips echoed around them.

Daryl murmured quietly to Rick, "D'you see the look on his face?"

"He makes one move." the idea was clear.

"Just gimme a signal."

Their final barrier between the next cell block was the laundry room. Luckily the room was free of any walkers, they checked each corner and crevice as they filled the room. Another set of locked doors would lead them to D Block. Rick tossed the keys at Tomas' feet.

The red tinted prisoner shook his head curtly, "I ain't openin' that."

"Yes, you are. If you want this cell block you're gonna open that door. Just the one. Not both of them, 'cause we need to control this." Rick said, his blade already in a prepared grip, and not only in wariness of walkers.

Tomas glanced at each person before he picked up the keys, another glance shot at Andrew as he approached the doors. From just the simple sound of the key sliding into the lock walkers could be heard grumbling, growling and moving toward it.

Sam set her bow on top of a washing machine, doing the same with her quiver of arrows while everyone waited with bated breath as Tomas turned the key in the lock.

"You bitches ready." he glanced at them once before giving the door a yank... then another, but it didn't budge. He looked back at the survivors and prisoners, and said, "I got this." The final yank made both doors fly open, and a dozen walkers rammed and shoved their way in, hands grabbing, jaws snapping.

"I said one door!" Rick shouted and took out the first one.

Tomas had stumbled back when the flood began, he pushed himself off the wall and countered, "Shit happens!"

Sam was between Daryl and T, careful with how she swung the longer blade, quick to pick up any strays with the knife. She shifted a few steps back, and caught the glance shared between Tomas and Andrew, and just a moment after saw the way Tomas swung his blade to slice a walkers head clean off, and in the aftermath nearly decapitated Rick as well. But Rick dodged it, and fixed Tomas with a look, a knowing look. But before anything could be said, Tomas threw a walker on him.

"Rick!" Sam shrieked, but then a heavy presence was getting closer and closer to her. She shoved the knife deep into the walkers eye and shoved it away. Thankfully Daryl had seen Rick go down too.

"T, mind that gap!" he called and stabbed through the back of the walkers skull and pulled it off of Rick. Rick accepted Daryl's offered hand and once he was standing again, all the chaos ended, silence filled the room again. All the walkers were in a pile in front of the door.

There was a shift in the air when Rick eyed Tomas again. The survivors were taut, gazes firmly on their leader and Tomas, as well as the other prisoners. Sam didn't take the moment to clean her blades in fear of consequences that might come from taking that risk.

Tomas just shrugged, aware of Rick's silent accusation, "It was coming at me, bro."

Rick chuckled, a mocking chuckle, "Yeah. I get it... I get it... Shit happens."

The pause is long, and silent, deafeningly so. Could have been minutes or hours, but then Rick swung his blade back and up, and brought it down heavily. Tomas was dead before he could blink. The machete buried deeply into the top of his skull, into his brain.

There was a cry of, "No!" from Andrew. But the blade had already made its home, and with a jerk from Rick's arm Tomas fell away onto the floor lifeless. Andrew swung his bat at Rick, but a boot to the gut was all it took to knock him down.

Daryl raised his crossbow on the frantic eyed convict on the floor, murmured a warning, "Easy now."

But Andrew scrambled and quickly shot up and broke into a run, Rick was few beats behind him as he called, "I got him."

There was a brief moment of silence where the survivors and remaining jailbirds stared at the empty doorway where Rick and Andrew had disappeared from sight. Then Daryl pointed his crossbow at Oscar, the trust -however microscopic it was- was broken, "Get down on your knees."

A moment of pause was shared between Axel and Oscar, they looked just as shocked as the rest, just as betrayed.

Sam let out a sigh and stomped over to the tall man, "You heard. On your knees, pal." she put the tip of the sword, still varnished with walker blood and gore, under Oscar's chin, and eased him down.

Axel shouted, "We have no affiliation with what just happened! Tell 'em, Oscar!"

Sam wiped the carnage from the trench knife onto her pant leg before she flipped it around, poised to throw, "Shut it, moustache. Hands empty, knees on the floor."

With three against two, the three far more deadly than the two, Axel dropped to his knees, hands raised in surrender, he looked from the survivors to his prison-mate.

"Stop talkin' man." Oscar said, his hands raised as well. When T pointed the gun to Axel Sam took the handle of the knife back into her grip and turned toward Oscar. With the sword and the knife she intersected them at this throat, had him under control.

Rick returned a couple minutes later, slightly out of breath, and took out his gun.

Oscar spoke up then, "We didn't have nothin' to do with that."

"Yeah, you didn't know?" Rick replied with a mocking tone, "You knew," he stated, "Daryl, let's end this now." before he moved away from Oscar and fixed his aim on Axel. Sam sheathed both blades before she took the hefty crossbow from Daryl and stepped aside for him to take her place with his hunting knife pressed against the left side of Oscar's neck. Prepared to take that pull with his other hand on the top of con's head, steadied.

"No, sir, please! Please listen to me! It was them that was bad, it wasn't us!" Axel begged in a rush.

"Well isn't that convenient?" Rick seethed.

"You saw what he did to Tiny! He was my friend! Please, we ain't like that!" the older man said, failing to keep his voice in check, "I like my pharmaceuticals, but I'm no killer. Oscar's here for a B 'n E, he ain't very good at it neither. We weren't the bad guys, they were! Please, I swear to god! I wanna live!" Axel sobbed.

The pleas of a man who knew his life was in the hands of men who wouldn't hesitate. He wasn't lying, but he still couldn't be trusted. Rick moved back to Oscar, fixed his aim between the kneeling man's eyes, "What about you?" he ventured quietly.

"I ain't never pleaded for my life. And I ain't 'bout to start now..." Oscar kept his gaze on the opposite wall beyond Rick, his gaze shifted though a moment later, he looked up to the former officer, "So you do what you gotta do."

There were a few long moments where something in those words must have touched something in Rick, causing contemplation in him, until he pulled his gun away. Holstered it. He ordered the prisoners up on their feet. Daryl led the way to D Block and unlocked the gate. Rick and T shoved the prisoners inside.

"Oh, man," Axel groaned woefully. Outside each open cell was a corpse, hands tied behind their backs and a single shot to the head, all with the same attire, "I knew these guys. They were good men."

"Let's go." Rick nudged Sam's arm, silently urged her out of the block first, and she moved without question.

"So, you're just gonna leave us in here? Man, this is sick." Oscar said.

Rick stopped at the threshold of the gate, turned and without a waver in his voice he stated, "We're locking down this cell block. From now on this part of the prison is yours. Take it or leave it, that was the deal."

"You think this is sick? You don't wanna know what's outside." Daryl added. T stepped out of the cell block, but stayed on the gate.

Rick spoke through the bars, "Consider yourselves the lucky ones." then walked out of sight.

"Sorry 'bout your friend, man." Daryl apologized then made his leave.

"Word of advice. Take those bodies outside and burn 'em." T suggested. Then the gate was locked, the survivors continued away without a glance back, the prisoners were left to the deathly quiet around them.

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They headed back to C Block surrounded by silence, again. The events of the day started to catch up and take effect on Sam, she'd slowed down, legs tired, arms tired, all around tired. She lagged behind and Daryl slowed his pace when he realized she wasn't walking alongside him. "Go on," she waved him off, "I'm gonna get Rocket." she grumbled.

He didn't step back into his normal pace, in fact, he stopped all together. She rolled her eyes, "I'll be fine. The worst is over now, right? Go on." Sam smiled smally.

He fixed her with a look that translated into something like, '_If you die, I'm gonna kill you_', in a more figurative than literal way. There was a time when they could joke, and it seemed like that time was making its appearance in their lives again. It couldn't always be serious.

Sam found Rocket curled up under a table, her ears perked up first then she lifted her head. No doubt the pooch had captured some shut eye while she waited. But on sight of Sam she scurried out from beneath the circular table and bench, leaned into a stretch before she trotted over to her.

"Ready for a little family reunion?" Sam smirked and swung her bags strap over her shoulder. Rocket responded with a small whine, her tail wagged faster.

Sam guided them in the direction of C Block, "I gotta admit though, family reunions always made a little queasy in the stomach."

Rocket let out a snort that probably meant something along the lines of, '_Shut up_.' Sam just laughed.

She stepped with caution into the common area outside of the block. She put out a hand to Rocket, a silent order to hold up, together they stood against the bricks just beside the bars, concealed, listening.

"Hershel stopped breathing. Mom saved him." that was Carl's voice, a watery grin took over Sam's mouth.

"It's true." Glenn, or... or Jo?

"Still no fever." that was Lori, Sam withheld a gasp, wondering if she managed to carry out the pregnancy, if she had the baby, or if she lost it like-

There was minute of silence and Sam inched toward the bars, she peeked through and saw most of the group gathered around one cell, there was an uptake in breath and quiet laughter of relief followed. Smiles broke across faces. Still concealed from sight, Sam saw Lori slip out of the cell and up the stairs, she walked along a walkway until she was out of sight. Soon after she saw Rick take the same path. Beside her Rocket lost all her patience and started to whine- begging to make contact with their group again, their family.

A head turned at the sound of the sharp whine, peeked around Carl- It was Erin.

"Sam?" she wondered in complete disbelief. But then Rocket barked and went through the gate and ran toward the group.

The bark caught everyone's attention. The ones outside the cell stared wide eyed at Rocket as she thundered into the block. Those inside the cell peeked out, jaws slackened. But Erin just smiled brightly and shuffled a few steps forward to meet Rocket. The dog licked all over her face and she just laughed. She _laughed_. Sam couldn't contain her own smile as she moved away from the bars to go on the other side of the gate. Erin started to sprint and Sam caught her half way and swung her up into her arms.

Erin laughed into the crook of Sam's neck as she walked them back to the group surrounding the cell.

Jo seemed to be the only one not shocked into silence, and as Sam set Erin back on her own two feet he chuckled, and pulled her into an tight embrace she gladly returned, "What the hell, chick? No calls, no letters? If I'd known you were coming I'd've spiffed up the place."

"Would it have killed you to at least dust?" she retorted when he pulled away.

"She's perfectly intact!" he barked out another laugh. Amy was in tears, holding a slightly bigger version of Honey in her arms. She couldn't manage any words, she just flung her free arm around Sam's neck, holding her tightly to her for a few long moments.

"Honey, look," Jo smiled at the child whose gaze was fixed on Sam, brow furrowed, "It's Sammy. She and Rocket are back."

There was a long moment where Honey just stared at Sam, a look in her eyes that considered the girl in front of her an impostor. In that time Sophia came around and hugged Sam as well.

"Smmee." the mumbled word came out so suddenly it startled them.

There were a few seconds pause before chuckles emitted from around the group.

"That's right," Sam grinned and took Honey's hand into her own, "Smmee is here now."

The rest of the group got in their hugs, their words of relief and welcome to Sam and Rocket. When Lori came back into the block she burst into something of hysteric laughter and tears, while Sam was in awe of her stomach encasing the soon coming baby Grimes, the grand arrival any time now.

Carol came back just before sunset. It was Rocket's bark out joy that startled her to jump, but then the realization hit her hard and quick. She'd nearly squeezed all the air out of Sam's lungs in her bone crushing embrace.

But the hype died down. Food from the cafeteria was transferred into the block, everyone settled in for the night.

Daryl and Sam sat against the wall where he created his nest where he and Honey slept. The sun set and darkness started to take over the prison. In the cells light snores or quiet chatter could be heard. Daryl's arm was slung around Sam, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. The situation was unbelievable, but then again, who would believe that it was almost a year ago when the dead rose to feast on the flesh of the living, because of a mysterious, unexplainable virus they all carried. It was best to just accept it and not question it. Always accept the good and always be prepared for the shit that was to sure to follow. Erin was tucked comfortably between them, passed out, completely at peace. Honey was nestled in Sam's arms, still awake somehow and busying herself with running and twisting up her fingers through Sam's hair.

He'd caught her up on all she'd missed, like he promised. And once Erin fell asleep he explained that the girls had taken a vow of silence when... And Sam's name, well, the attempt at Sam's name, was the first word Honey had said in months. She'd replied with a scoff, sarcastically saying that maybe things were starting to look up now. Then they lapsed into silence.

Outside of the prison nocturnal animals and insects made their sounds and played their songs. Honey was nodding off, her head rested against Sam's chest for a moment, but it didn't seem to satisfy her. She squirmed and nearly sent her foot into Erin's face as she scrambled toward Daryl. He scooped her up with his vacant arm and she took up her position she had tried on Sam, she was out in moments.

Daryl inhaled deeply through his nose and Sam turned her head against his shoulder to peer up at him, "You better not be getting misty eyed on me."

"Shut up," he grumbled. She laughed under her breath. All was silent in the prison now, everyone was asleep, aside from those that were posted on watch, but it was quiet. Peaceful compared to what they had to deal with over the past year.

"I'm just..." he paused, words couldn't really explain it, but eventually his mouth spouted out the closest version of what he was feeling, "Really glad you're alive."

He was waiting. He had waited the entire time. His silence was his offer for her to go, her turn to talk. To speak up and tell him all she knew he wanted to know. But she didn't ruin the quiet. Not for another few minutes until she quietly mumbled, "... I miss her too."

That was the closest he'd get to the information he wanted. In time she would open up. In time she would tell the tale of how Lacey was lost. In a world deficient of time he would give her as long as she needed... In time.

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Disclaimer: I don't own anything!

Shout out to Rexi and XM. Babes!

Also, who enjoyed some Sassy Sam?


	5. Chapter 5

A/N:'Tis the season! Here's my gift to you, readers! Hope you like it! Perhaps I might be gifted a review in return...? :O

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Lacey woke to the sound of the shades being yanked up, followed shortly by the horribly bright light that flooded in with it. She squeezed her eyes shut more, trying to will the unwelcome florescent beams away, but they didn't waver. She groaned and pulled her pillow over her head and as an added measure pulled the blankets over head too.

"Rise 'n shine, gorgeous!" Merle's voice boomed with a chuckle.

Incoherent grumbles emitted in response from the heavily covered lump on the bed.

"Say a'gin?" he cupped his hand around his ear.

The blankets were flung away and a messy haired Lacey sat up with an unamused expression painted on her face, "I said, I don't know how I managed to do this everyday _before_. This is horrid."

"Yeah, yeah. Just get up already." he rolled his eyes as he started for the door, "If I don't wake you up now-,"

"Then you'll never get outta that bed." Lacey quoted with a nod and pushed the blankets away more. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and forced back a yawn.

"'S'right," Merle laughed, the halted just before he left the room, "Now, I'm gonna be gone most of the day, so..." he turned back, hand braced on the doorway and looked at her for a few moments. She just raised a brow. "Ah," he waved the previous thought away, "You'll be fine on your own, won't'cha?"

"Were you really considering setting me up with a babysitter again? I thought I outgrew that." she smirked as she crossed the room, slipped under his arm and navigated her way to the kitchen.

"Ya know it's only for your safety."

"Yes, yes. _Be careful with her_, _she's __**fragile**_, _watch out for her,_ and all that nonsense." she grumbled, then paused, "Ya know, that last one could be taken two different ways... But either way..." she shook her head, "I'm fine, like you said, so go and do your... your scouting thing or whatever the Gov's got set up for you and the guys today."

Lacey pulled out a carton of eggs from the fridge, lit a burner on the stove and started to work on a couple of fried eggs. She felt eyes on her and she turned, spatula in hand, "Go on," she shooed him with the utensil.

Merle's smirk didn't falter, but he pushed away from the wall he was leaned against and headed for the front door, "See ya later, girly."

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_8 months earlier_

Lacey (having no real choice in the matter) stayed in the infirmary recovering for an entire week. Her only vistors were Merle and the doctor who she came to formally know as Dr. Stevens, though Lacey hardly ever called her anything but 'Doc'. The woman would become the sole person Lacey trusted completely in Woodbury, frequently in her company, she would even go so far as to call her a friend.

The day that Lacey was 'released', though it was technically night, she was given new clothes, a welcome change to that scratchy hospital gown she was subjected to. When she had voiced her concerns about her own clothes they were set into her hands, washed, a few stubborn blood stains here and there, but it halted any sort of possible panic. She didn't have any pants and the ones she was given were a little too big, but the doc assured her she'd eventually settle back into a healthy enough weight where they'd fit better. Her boots were kept from her, Merle insisted they were fine, safe and she'd have them soon. For now she'd have to deal with a pair of slippers that were a size too small.

"Where're we going?" she wondered, a hand held onto Merle's arm as he and the doc guided her out of what she was referring to as 'the hospital'.

"Gonna meet the boss man."

"Oh god," she groaned, "And here I am mismatched, mis-sized and _the picture of health_."

"Hush. Ain't that chick I saw in a dumb ass martini glass all those months ago, but you still fine as hell."

Lacey refrained, and couldn't do so even if she wanted to, from slapping a palm to her forehead, "_Gee_. Thanks."

They stepped out of the infirmary and she swept her gaze all around her, a town, she was in an actual intact town, and it was nearing sunset. She saw some men lighting torches that lined the main street. There were other people too... And that's what really stunned her. They were so... calm. So normal. Not armed to the teeth. Not dirty. No bags under their eyes. Fear wasn't ever-present in the air. They looked like civilians. Just civilians. As if the world hadn't gone to shit... But then she saw the heavy gate and lock. The men stationed along the perimeter, guns in their grasp. There was that slap of reality again.

"C'mon, girly." Merle beckoned and they started down the main street. People passed them and stared at her, they didn't even try to hide their wonder, or confusion, or judgment in their unwavering gazes. For a moment or so she felt embarrassed. What she must look like... But then that voice in her head reminded her, '_Fuck them. They have no idea what you've been through. What you survived. As if their opinions matter when you high tail it out of here. They have no idea_.' She held herself a little taller, straighter in posture, and fought the urge to stick her nose up in the air.

"Don't worry about them," the doc's voice sounded from beside her, "You're the hottest gossip. The attention will fade after a while."

"I hope so..." Lacey grumbled back, "I feel like I'm naked on display," she briefly curled her fingers tighter around Merle's arm, "Shut up." she warned.

His mouth, previously opened to let out a comment mostly likely about how that wouldn't at all be a strange situation for her, fell closed, and a smirk took over.

Soon enough they would be behind closed doors again, away from unrelenting curious eyes. They entered a small apartment complex, which level they ended up on Lacey wasn't she, all she knew was she was exhausted after the first fourteen steps. The doc knocked on a door and it opened a short moment later. Lacey turned her gaze upward, unintentionally portraying something shy when in reality the man who door revealed was taller than she expected.

"Ah, Lacey. It is Lacey, right?" the guy put on a friendly grin and Lacey was stuck between being intimdated and melting into a puddle on the corridor floor. All she could muster was a nod.

"Good to see you back on your own two feet. It's lucky my men found you when they did, or I probably wouldn't be talkin' to you right now." he shifted his footing, but maintained eye contact with the blonde, "You can call me Governor, everyone else calls me that, some nicknames just seem to stick." he offered a hand out, that pleasant grin still on his face.

"Huh," she breathed out a laugh, and met his hand with hers, allowing him to encase it and give it a firm shake, "Right."

"Shall we?" The Governor gestured as he stepped outside of his home and closed the door behind him.

The four moved down the stair well and out of the building, and walked leisurely along the lane. Lacey held onto Merle's arm with both hands as they walked; should she suddenly need the support she knew he'd be able to catch her before the fall. All the torches were lit just as the sun made its quick decent, and all natural light disappeared from the sky.

"I hope you've been comfortable for the time being, while you recover that is. Terribly sorry to hear about your lost baby. If only we'd found you sooner."

"Well," she winced, "I'm sure it's for the best. This world is no place for a pregnant woman or a newborn, honestly."

The Govenor's grin fell, "I'm sorry you think that way."

"How many people have you lost?" the question snapped out of her, she hadn't meant for it to sound so demanding or cruel.

"More than needed." the Governor replied.

"Then I'm sure you're aware of _why_ exactly you've started to build walls around your town. _What_ you're protecting yourself from. Natural selection's the name of the game."

"Lacey." Merle muttered in warning.

"That's alright." the other man forced a grin, and looked at Lacey, "I'm sure you haven't had a restful night's sleep in months. But here, you'll be safe. We're working on building these walls higher, any and all the holes in our security and perimeter will be patched. You can relax. You're safe here, I guarantee it."

"And where is here?" she grumbled and eyed the armed men on the five foot high walls bordering the gate. She recognized one of the guys from a week ago, well not so much recognized as took notice of his uncomfortable stance and obvious limp, he was a member of the party that had stolen her. More specifically the one that had recieved an arrow to the ass. Her chest filled with conflicted feelings of amusement and pride, worry and sorrow.

"Woodbury, Miss..." the Governor trailed off for her to fill in, but he had this look that he already knew her name, and he was merely testing her to see if _she_ knew. Clearly he wasn't spared any details from her... incident.

"Black." she supplied and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Miss Black... Welcome to Woodbury."

She dragged her gaze away from the Governor to look up at the men stationed on the wall, Arrow-Ass gave her something between smirk and a glare, which she was taken back by for a moment before she stated, "I'd be more comfortable with a weapon of my own, if it's not too much trouble. Can't be too careful, should there be a security breac-"

"Lacey!" At that moment she was interrupted by a shreiking voice that came from down the main street. All four of them, even the men on guard, swung their gazes in concern at the noise. A figure ran down the lane, all the time continuing to crow Lacey's name.

From beside she heard Merle grumble, "This guy again," he crossed his arms, an act that proved a little more difficult with his new apparatus, "You should'a seen the way he reacted when you were brought in. Lookin' like a total lunatic, hollerin' like he knew you. Nearly had to knock him out m'self to get him to calm down."

Lacey gave a nod toward Merle's words, but something pinched in her stomach, like a hot spike of fear as this person continued to run straight at them.

"Gov'ner says he's a good guy. I think he was left too long out in the sun, brain got a little overcooked."

From Lacey's other side she heard the Governor puff out a chuckle, "He's perfectly sane, I assure you." he paused, "Don't know why he's actin' like this though..." confusion threaded in his tone that made the fact that he was bolting towards them even more unsettling. He recognized her somehow, and the closer he got she just couldn't say the same.

His pace didn't slow the closer her got and Lacey's hand grabbed for Merle's sleeve, but his arms were still crossed, and all she got was a handful of open air. She squeaked unpleasantly when the man screeched to halt in front of her and looped his arms around her middle. "My god, it's really you! It really is you!" the stranger breathed into her hair and squeezed her tighter, and spun her around once. "I can't believe it! It's really, really you! It's you. My god, my god, my god."

Lacey put up an obvious struggle, hands shoved, feet kicked, the fear bursted from her stomach and spread throughout her entire body like wild fire.

"Alright, Grady," luckily Lacey's attempt at fighting this guy off didn't go unnoticed, the Governor called him off.

And the guy set her down, but he didn't remove his hands from her. When he pulled away enough for her to get a look at his face, her breath caught in her throat and she thought she might actually vomit. Grady... As in...

"Lace, it's me." the man grinned, it nearly looked painful the way his smile stretched, "It's Keenan. Can't you recognize me?" the diction of his words is what brought it all together.

It was Keenan. Keenan Grady... He just wasn't the Keenan she remembered. She remembered dark hair, fair glowing skin, a lean form and those brilliant blue eyes. This Keenan... To say lightly, he looked... different. His hair was much longer than it should be, he'd always kept it at a professional length with a professional cut. His facial hair was, well there actually was quite a bit of some where he used to stay clean shaven, and it just didn't look right. His skin was pale, couldn't be constituted as anything close to 'fair' anymore. Those brilliant blues were no longer, they were dulled, and the skin around his eyes was almost sunken in looking, bagged, grey. He could have easily be mistaken for a walker if it weren't for his normal human gait, clean clothes and speech.

Lacey's breath came out frantic, hands clenched and unclenched in the fabric of Keenan's shirt, her eyes were unsure of where to look, but anywhere she did look there was a darkness closing in at the corners, and all she could hear was the thrumming bass of her heart beat in her ears.

It was a panic attack.

Muffled voices broke through the frenzied beat.

"She can't breathe."

"Get the hell off'a her!"

"Lacey? Lacey! What's happen-"

Constricting hands fell away from her, she was sure she heard the sound of a body slapping heavily onto pavement. Was it her own body or someone else's, she wondered.

"Lacey? Can you hear me?"

"Is it Lacey or Perrin? You said the first time this happened she said she was Perrin."

"That was different, this jackass freaked her out, triggered it. Last time she could still talk."

"Focus on your breathing."

Lacey's mind reverted to textbook methods again. But it was harder this time. This wasn't Erin suffering from a heat illness, this was herself. Herself and a panic attack. How to stop a panic attack, how to stop it. Strategies came all at once and a voice that sounded like her own gave a rebuttle after each.

Positive thinking. _Hah!_ Control breathing. _Working on it._ Acknowledge the trigger. Why are you panicking, what's causing it, chances are what you're worrying about is probably not real. _Oh fuck, no way, no way. Let's not have this fucking debate right now of real and fake. Fuck's sake, I'm going to die! My heart is going to hop out of my chest or my lungs are going to explode! What the hell is happening!?_

"Focus on your breathing, slow breaths. Slow..."

"Oh shit!"

"Lacey!"

All sound, sight and feeling faded away. Blissful silence and darkness took over.

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Lacey woke curled up on her right side, her vision was blurred from sleep before she focused on the same wall she'd been waking up to for the past week. A deep sigh deflated her chest when she realized where she was and remembered what happened. Not only did she suffer a panic attack, she also passed out. Right in the street. And who knew how many people had witnessed it aside from those present.

She turned onto her back, noted the way that the room was lit from the natural light of day outside. She had slept through night.

A sound of shifting limbs came from beside her, and where she expected Merle as the source of the noise when she turned her gaze, she found someone else instead-

He stifled a yawn and sat forward, "Hey." he greeted quietly.

Her eyes widened, her pulse raced, but she wouldn't let the panic take over again. Before her cloudy, yet rested, mind could determine if the entirety of the previous night had been real at all, the reason himself sat before her. He was here. It wasn't her over-active imagination, her imagination couldn't even begin to produce a scenario such as this. This was reality. He was here. In Georgia. In fucking Woodbury, of all places.

A soft smile came to Keenan's face, "I'm betting you thought it was all a dream," he chuckled, "No... No, I'm here, Lacey. I'm real."

He had a dark bruise against his right cheek bone, the whole side of his face seemed to swell slightly, either from where Merle had hit him, or from hitting the pavement after Merle hit him, all assumptions invovled physical violence from Merle. She'd have to ask which assumption was right later. But the painful looking injury didn't stop him smiling at her.

She tried, and easily, maintained control over her breathing, slowing the franctic beat of her pulse was a different obstacle. Her mind raced just as quickly, just in time with her heart beat. A flood of emotions, numerous questions, there were so many things to say, but what eventually sputtered out of her mouth as she eased herself to sit upright was less than eloquent, "... How?"

It wasn't the best way to start, there was no doubt about that, considering her tone, the expression on her face, the way she literally held herself, wary of the distance between them, but Keenan just grinned, "I called you, told you I'd be coming for you. Did you ever get that message?"

She gave a short nod. She remembered the day she listened to that voicemail all too well. The doubt, the guilt, then the overwhelming fear, the small moment of rage, then the fear again. But the event that occurred had removed all previous doubt, all question- the guilt had been erased. Like a light guiding her from the darkness she understood then, she'd made her decision then. Lacey was pulled from her memories when she heard Keenan continue.

"I was, uhh... part of a group. A lot of people from the office- my employees, and people in neighbouring buildings and businesses... We were kept in my building by some soldiers. We were there for a while but then...The soldiers left and... Bombs were dropped on the city. Those of us that-" he cleared his throat when his voice had broken on the last word, "Those of us that survived the initial blasts made our way out of the city. We lost even more on our way out, and then..." he paused to breathe out a laugh, "These people. They were looking to me for leadership. They had the belief that I... that I could..." he shook his head minutely, "That I could lead them- save them, protect them from... Like I knew what I was doing... I was terrified... All I had on my mind was you, I couldn't lead them through this... But I-I-I tried... And I... I reckoned the less populated states would be best to go to, but all the time I was coming here..." he paused, a few long moments passed and Lacey watched the way his gaze was unfocused on the bed sheets on her knees, the way his mouth twitched into a frown, "I lost all of them. I was on my own and on the brink of death when he found me... The Governor. He saved my life."

He gave a short shake of his head and his eyes came into focus to land on hers, he smiled again, "And now you're here... Saved by the same man." he reached toward her and took her hand, "We're together again."

She flinched, she was still spooked, and his ghostly vacant expression during his retelling of his journey didn't put her at ease either. It was impossible... Just impossible. Keenan had been catered to his whole life. Of course he couldn't handle the pressure of guiding a group of people through something like this. His natural habitat was in a board room, an office building, the city. He could sell, sell, sell any idea to anyone and get them to buy at the highest price. He could sell a ketchup popsicle to a woman in white gloves. But survival. To physically fight for his life and the lives of others... He was completely out of his element. Lacey had been trained and conditioned for a world like this, unaware of it at the time. But each time she and her brothers were packed away and moved to the next foster home, they never really unpacked, they never really settled down, they were always ready for the next move, ready to pick up and leave and never look back.

The bombs dropped on the city while he had left that message to her, of course she thought he was dead, would anyone else have thought any differently? In her eyes a ghost was seated before her, haunting her.

There was a pinch between Keenan's brow, he looked away from her still shocked face and to her hand. A tinge of cold metal had caught him off guard, her engagement ring? A grin nearly bloomed on his face again when he thought she still wore his ring through all of this. But. No... When he saw the simple silver band his brow scrunched further, a chuckle in his throat, "What's this?"

She recoiled sharply, snatched her hand away from him and crossed her arms over her chest as she looked to her knees.

There was a distinct scoff in his throat, and he shook his head once, a short crane of the neck, "The word around town is you were..." he paused to let out another scoff of a chuckle, "That you were with child, but you lost it... You were bleeding out, would've been a fine meal for biters if they hadn't found you..."

Lacey didn't look up.

"It's safe to assume then," Keenan continued, "that it wasn't mine... We both took precautions, and seeing as the last time we were together was 4 months ago... Leads me to also assume that you weren't lonely when you decided that I was dead."

Her eyes snapped up, "What was I supposed to think? The world was fucking ending-"

"Oh, so that's perfect reason enough to fuck the first cock toting survivor who crosses your path?" Keenan's voice raised in volume and Lacey's eyes widened, pulse quickened. Keenan had never spoken to her like this before... they'd never had a fight before. They hadn't spent enough time together to have a fight.

"I was with my **brothers** for the first two weeks of this shit. And perhaps you've neglected to notice- they're not here with me? Jo's left! And he found love in this fuckstory of a world too-"

"Oh _love_!" he mocked, restless in his chair, "Love is it? You've got to be joking with me! After all we've been through-"

"_All we've been through_?" she repeated with a questioning outrage, "You mean _**all**_ the times you talked to me even though you aren't much of a talker- just to distract me, just to calm me down, just to make me laugh? _All_ the times you held me at night making me believe nothing could hurt me as long as your arms were around me. The way you became the father of my girls, the way you always have my back in this world, the way you just be **being** there saves my fucking life? You mean all those times?!" her hands were twisted tightly in the sheets.

"Father of your girls!?" Keenan questioned loudly, he stood up so abruptly that his chair fell backward, crashing to the floor, "What the fuck have you been doing while I'm away!? Who the **fuck** do you _think_ _you_ _are_?!"

Panic pumped through her veins again when he towered over her with clenched fists.

The door swung open and hit heavily against the wall, it elicited a jump from Lacey, she flinched and inched toward the edge of the bed.

"What the hell is going on in here?!" Dr. Stevens' voice demanded, "Grady!" she called when she saw the scene in front of her- terrified, quivering Lacey, and though not the most physically imposing of men, Keenan stood looming over the scared blonde with stiff shoulders, rigid everything, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

He stooped down, hands planted on the bed on either side of her, "You're nothing but a hoor. I should've never come here to find you... should've left you to rot." he seethed.

"Grady, now." the doc demanded, and kept the level of her voice in check so as not to scare Lacey further.

Keenan huffed savagely and stalked out of the room, kicked his tipped over chair on the way. He bumped his shoulder heavily into Merle's outside the doorway.

"The hell's the limey's problem?" Merle grumbled, but then noticed the state of disarray Lacey was in yet again.

"I heard a commotion, raised voices a-and a crash-" the doc explained and they both cautiously ventured toward the girl perched precariously on the edge of the bed.

She stared, unblinking, unfocused on the opposite wall. They called her name. They asked for Perrin too, but she didn't respond for four hours.

_"Am I speaking to Lacey or Perrin?"_

Over the next eight months that was a query Lacey would hear repeatedly, and come to loath.

.

.

"Don't let her pass the wall!"

It was her tenth day in Woodbury [four days after Keenan had shouted at her] and if it were up to her, as she ran with half laced boots toward one of the weak points of the perimeter wall, it would be her last day there.

She had lifted a knife -the puniest of pocket knives- off of one of the patrolmen the previous night and was currently booking it toward the nearest wall with it clenched in her hand. It was morning and she figured, no one would notice, no one would be fully awake yet and properly aware, she would be able to sneak out easily. The hard part would be trying to navigate her way back to... well... _anywhere_ but there. These people were pirates.

'_Fight the pirates! Fight the pirates_!' was chanted in her head as she forced herself harder. With all her momentum built up, coming to an abrupt halt nearly gave her whiplash.

Arms were cinched tightly around her waist, kept her from continuing her path to freedom, and she wasted no time in putting that stubby knife to use. Sure it was short and dull, but given the right amount of force and motivation behind it-

The guy who held her wailed, the blade pierced his arm, and he released her long enough for her to manage a step before he yanked her back by the wrist and sent his uninjured arm's hand flying across her face. She didn't go down though, if anything it seemed like the slap had fueled her to spring back with a tight fist hitting him straight in the teeth. Painful, but worth it, if that crack she had felt wasn't from her hand.

"Woah! Woah!" the Governor's voice called before the man could reel back his arm again to deliver another blow, that didn't deter Lacey though, with the man distracted she sent her fist into his stomach and scrambled away when he doubled over.

But she coudn't even peek a toe beyond the part of the wall that had yet to be complete. She was snatched back easily, two men held onto each arm, she struggled with all her worth, and let out a pitiful grunt when the knife was pried from her fingers.

"Now Lacey, or is it Perrin... Whoever I'm addressing, you could have gotten yourself killed that way, and put many other lives in danger as well." the Governor seemed to scold her while he motioned for someone to take care of the walkers that were drawn to the upheaval just beyond the wall.

"Our community is small, developing. And should you sabotage it with any more outburts like this, all our work will be for nothing." the Governor waved off the men who held Lacey's arms in a vice grip, they released her and walked to the work-in-progress wall to stand watch and assist with the walker corpses that had been taken care of.

Lacey rubbed at the sore spots on her arms, glared after the men and then stepped back, startled when she turned back to see the Governor's offered arm. She scoffed quietly and ignored his offer.

"This is a place of refuge..." he stated as he started away from the wall, and continued to speak, but Lacey had tuned him out. She noted the way he kept his head just so -actively keeping track of her movements, but gave off the air that he trusted her enough to let her walk on her own. Her area of escape was blocked, and she wasn't silly enough or strong enough to run head on with the men who now guarded the space. She took this as defeat, but it was only her first attempt.

.

.

It was close to her third month in Woodbury, and she currently stood atop the bus that was part of one of the completely constructed walls, this was her... Hell, she didn't know what number attempt it was, but she was sure someone else kept track. The men around her were knocked out cold, much like the weather -winter still clung to the air. She was wrapped up in her brother's hoodie and since she was given her boots back in her first week they were always present on her feet.

The men she'd basically walked through were new to this defensive position on the wall, (a weak wall had given way to a walker ambush earlier that month, it had resulted in small death toll- a couple of citizens and more than a few of guardsmen, including the guy that had caught Lacey in her first escape, Arrow-Ass and most likely a few others that had been apart of her capture.) they weren't too much of a challenge. She was situated neatly on the roof of the bus, ready to make a jump for it, though she winced, half in pain from the burns she had sustained from her swatting away at a gun firing on full auto, the firey hot shells repeatedly hit her hand and wrist as she shoved it away. Her other reason of wincing was in irritation, a voice called up to her.

"Lacey, please! I told you I was sorry! Just-" the Irishman sighed, "Just please come back down! Don't go over that wall! You don't know what you're doing!"

"She ain't listenin' to you, Sherlock. She knows exactly what she's doin'." Merle grumbled from beside him, then called up to Lacey, "Sweetheart, you better decide what you gonna do before someone comes t'get ya!"

Lacey could see the small grin on Merle's mouth, and the scowl on Keenan's as he turned to the older man.

"I've told you once before, redneck, I won't say it again. I'm not British. I'm Irish."

Merle turned to him, a straightness came into his spine, a tilt in his neck, "Ooh, well my apologies, _mick_. **You're** the reason the girl's actin' like this in the first place!"

"Don't give him too much credit." Lacey snarked, but then, just as Merle said, someone was coming to get her. Men in possession of imposing firearms ran along the wall toward her. Guns she could never even dream of getting ahold of and/or knowing how to operate, which was partially the reason why she chose to go with another knife as her weapon of choice. She hadn't lost her tact, she knew she couldn't go out there guns blazing, especially ones as loud as the guards had. So with a knife in hand, she make a quick decision and leapt off the bus and to the other side.

There was a chorus of shouts, but she couldn't place voices or what they had said. She was immediately surrounded by walkers, the previous gunfire had lured them in. The knife, she realized all too late and all too suddenly, would get her no where. She shoved at the walkers, pushed her way through them, she tried to at least. She'd hardly made it a good couple yards away from the wall when a particularly aggressive walker ambled toward her, snarling, snapping and grabbing, she shoved the knife through its eye, effectively killing it, while at the same time, embedding her only weapon too deep for retrieval.

With each second that ticked by more walkers caught onto the scent, her scent, specifically the raw burns on her skin. They became less sluggish, more aware, zeroing in on her, and she was quickly losing an opening. '_So this is it_', her thoughts narrated in her mind, and she allowed herself one last glance around before she let her eyelids fall closed. Accepting. The sound of the undead growls around her became a sort of white noise, as well as the shouts from atop the wall behind her. '_This is how I'm going to bite it_', her thoughts snorted, '_Dog piled by a bunch of rotting, living dead, cannibals. Honestly, I'm surprised I've made it _this_ far, but kidnapped?_', a guffaw echoed in her skull, '_Never saw that coming. That really tops it, I mean, you, of course, _you_, Lacey, would get kidnapped in a time like this. I mean, who else? Hah... Holy fucking shit, _imagine_ if I made it all the way to the end. All the walkers finally died for real, no more virus... somehow... and-and safety again... sort of... And I was one of the last of humanity. How amazing would that have been, huh?_' She would have been proud of herself for accepting her fate so easily and quickly, but then gun fire started to rain down around her, shattered her calm, halted her impending final peace. She squeezed her eyes shut, incapable of movement. Walker after walker dropped, all she could do was try not to flinch with each piercingly loud round that left a chamber and tore through bone, brain and bone again.

"Be careful! Goddamnit!" a voice crowed after she jumped away from a violently uplifted clod of dirt just a few inches away from her feet. Clearly someone had skipped a day of target practice.

A series of thumps sounded around her again, then arms cirlced around her and pulled her to a body. Walker or Living? She had anticipated the feeling of teeth tearing into her flesh, fingers digging into her skin, but she was simply carried away from the carnage.

"What the hell! What _the_ _**hell**_ was **that** all about?!" the same voice that had shouted from the wall just a minute ago now shouted at her face now. A hand gripped tightly onto her shoulder and she opened her eyes again.

"You don't do that- You **can't** do that, sweetheart!-" Merle gave her a short shake, his attention pulled away when another figure neared, "No! You back the hell off! This is your goddamn fault, mick!"

"Me back off?! Fuck you, boor! You don't even know her!"

"Grady! Just back off for a minute! Let's get the perimeter secured! Fill in any holes in the wall! Merle, would you take Ms. Black to my home, we're in desperate need of a discussion."

Lacey was pulled away again, guided by one hand held around her forearm. "So that was it, huh? Your grand scheme? You just planned on throwin' yourself to them? Givin' up like that?" Merle shook his head, "Thought I knew you better than that, girly."

"Plans change."

"Where the hell were you plannin' to go anyway? Colder than a witch's tit, and you plan on gamblin' your life out _there_, a sweater and a goddamn pocket knife? You wouldn't'a made it a mile."

"I can't-" Lacey huffed and ran a hand through her hair, "I just can't. I-I have to leave."

By then they had reached the Governor's front door and made their way inside. "Why? What's so wrong with this place makin' you believe you gotta leave so badly? So badly you'd rather get chowed down on by biters..."

"I-," and then... she honestly couldn't think of anything, she had nothing left to prove, she had nothing left to lose... but was she really the type of person to just give up like that? The appalling realization of what she had almost done slowly hit her as he eased her to sit in the chair before the Governor's desk.

"Listen, girly." Merle came down to a knee in front of her, his only hand gripped onto her arm and he waited for her to give him all her attention. Her eyes swam all around, in a dizzying pattern before they landed on him, focused on the way he looked at her and she found herself startled, intrigued. It wasn't a look she'd ever seen on him, "You can't do that ag'in. You gave me half a heart attack pullin' that stunt," he paused, took a breath in through his nose, "You're all the family I got left now. Ain't gonna lose ya, alright?"

This Merle was different, this Merle... he wasn't the one from the Atlanta camp, not completely at least. He was clean, she realized quickly. Forced to be at least. His entire stash was left in his bike, the bike Daryl had, so he was completely clear headed. This was a Merle that even Daryl hadn't seen. Most likely. A Merle who cared, worried, and was protective for all the right reasons. Since day one he'd been there, at her defense, as her protection, and even more so as the months past. He cared about her and she was about to just throw herself to the wolves... er... walkers.

She nodded, slowly, and managed to whimper out an, "I'm sorry." before the door opened and the Governor appeared.

"Merle." he nodded, "They could use some help out there."

Merle gave a nod of his own as he stood up, the glance he shot at Lacey held less worry, and then he exited the room. Lacey just kept her gaze on where her friend- her only family had been. She tried to keep herself from flinching with every echoing step the Governor took as he approached her. Without Merle, without her shield, defenseless... she felt a tremor in her limbs. The Governor's long legged strides passed her vision before he took a seat on the edge of his desk, perched with ease in his posture, though she knew he was far from it.

Three solid minutes passed in complete silence -horrible, nerve-racking, silence. She could feel his eyes on her, her breath escaped her slightly parted lips in what she was hoping was a controlled way. In this situation, in this town- this hell, the only control she had was over her own body... and she hardly had that.

An uptake in breath, a break in the silence, the Governor shifted his footing, crossed one ankle over the other, before he spoke, "Now, if I were planning a daring escape and jumping right into a pit of biters, I'd have definitely relieved at least one of the men I knocked out of their weapon. But you didn't go that route, did you, Lacey?"

"Never been much good with a gun." her reply came, and she hated the quake in her voice. She remembered a time when she was a leader, a time not so long ago, a leader of people she missed dearly, people she'd never see again.

"So you'd rather take your chances with a three inch knife." the Governor said, and chuckled a second later.

"Why don't you just let me go?" the query burst from her and effectively silenced his laughter, "Why?" she repeated, her gaze moved to man leaned against the desk, "Why didn't you just let them devour me? Or-or-or, if I had managed to slip away from them, let me fend for myself out there, which you _know_ I wouldn't be able to do, and let the freaks eat me. Either way I'd be done for. I'm of no use to you. I-I-I'm a-a burden, just a burden on you and this place." the room fell into that horrible silence again after her final word almost broke off in a sob. The Governor stared at her, just stared, and feeling more and more weak as the silence continued she couldn't find it in herself to meet his gaze.

"You're kept here," the Governor eased himself off his desk and walked around it, pulled out the chair but didn't sit, "because you're mentally unsound, you're weak, and Merle has taken to treating you like his own family. I'm sure he's told you that, sure that's what he was saying just before I arrived. He's my second rescue. The first being Grady, your, uh, ex-lover?"

"Ex fiance." Lacey grumbled.

"Both of them are essential to this community. Along with Milton, they are my right hands."

"You can only have one right hand." she mumbled in response.

The Governor either didn't hear her or chose to ignore her as he continued, "If I let those biters get you, I'd have two of my men incapacitated by grief. Letting you out of those gates would be murder. How would that have made me look, huh?"

There was another long moments pause, and then suddenly the Governor was right in front of her, hands planted firmly on the arms of the chair she was sat in, arms caged her in, "I can't let you leave because," he shrugged, "Who's to know if you _do_ survive. If you find some people, _your_ people, and lead them back here." his voice was loud, breath hot on her face.

While she tried to maintain her pulse and breathing she noted the crazed look in his eye, and she could faintly register the sound of a steady thumping in the background, "I am rebuilding _civilization_ here, I'm creating stability and safety. I _will_ survive this, and as long as these people stand by me, and my rules, in my town, they'll survive too. No one, not even a ditzy little thing like you, is goin' to fuck around with my society, my people, my... creation."

She swallowed, with wide eyes she let out a gasp of breath before she spoke, "The question remains, why keep me alive?"

The Governor smiled, "Like I said, I can't have my men hindered by their... affections toward you." his gaze wandered away from her face, and though she had shrunk as much as she could away from him, into the chair, she squirmed under his scrutiny until his eyes met hers again.

"You are a pretty girl after all." one hand moved away from its previous task of entrapment to twist around a lock of her hair, he grinned when she glared at him, but didn't allow herself to jerk away, to flinch. He let the blonde strands fall away from his touch, and stood up, "Waste not..."

He walked around his desk again, this time finally taking his seat, "And who knows, maybe you possess other skills that may prove you to be of use... You'll come around, Ms. Black."

Lacey started to unfold, inch by inch. She hissed when she bumped a shell burn on her wrist on the chair's armrest.

"Have the doc take care of those, then head on home. No detours." he leaned forward, "Or do I need to escort you...?"

That was the last conversation the Governor and Lacey shared alone in his home. And that was the last time Lacey had tried to escape. Not simply because of his words, not simply because she wouldn't be able to survive. Simply because of the look on Merle's face. The meaning of _his_ words. She couldn't leave him, even if she was capable.

She was stuck there now. Stuck in Woodbury...

.

Her burns were tended to, they were nothing major. They'd be tender for a while, they'd heal, scab over and scar. But once the doc said she was all set and Lacey had failed to stand from the bed and leave, or give any sign she had registered she was being spoken to, the doc simply adjusted her into a lying down position on the bed and stationed herself in a chair. It was going to be a long night, she presumed...

.

"She hasn't spoken in two days. I've talked to her, almost constantly. I'm starting to get sick of hearing myself. But she appears to be in some kind of catatonic state. I thought I could wait it out, but another day like this? It won't good for her. She's still as skinny as when she was first brought to Woodbury, her physical health needs to be taken care first, her mental health can rest on the back burner for now." the doc explained as she and Merle stood in the doorway of the infirmary. They looked into the room to see Lacey curled up on her side on the bed, a position she'd apparently switched to sometime in the past twenty-four hours.

"When I speak to her there doesn't seem to be any sort of reaction. Though when I mentioned your name something seemed to register. I tried it with other names as well, The Governor, Grady, some slight expressions were given but it's your name she responded to with a kind of... contentment." the doctor said as she stepped into the room, "And I figured since all the other times you've been able to talk her down maybe you could bring her back down to Earth again. Anchor her, keep her here, in reality."

"How would I do that?" Merle asked as they approached the tightly coiled girl.

"For now, just talk to her. See if you can get her out of this stupor. Get her talking. Talk about... memories you both share, people you both know. Real things, people, events. Keep her grounded." the doc offered then started to step back toward the door, "I'll give you some privacy."

When the door clicked shut Merle pulled a chair up close to the bedside. He sat down on it and for a while he grumbled under his breath, cursed and wondered just what the hell he was doing and how the hell he was going to do this. Memories they shared? Those weren't the most, er... peaceful... of memories to bring up again... things, events, people... People. There was one person they shared. And it was Merle muttering his name that brought her out...

Daryl was the topic of conversation to keep her in reality. They would share stories about him, memories about him. Some they both were aware of, some they weren't. As time moved on and seasons changed Lacey still had her little outbursts. She didn't try to escape anymore, she'd simply have breaks. But it was the memory jogs, as they'd come to be known as, that kept her sane, kept her on the level. And it truly appeared like it helped her.

_"And then it looked exactly like the cover of one of those grocery store romance novels..."_

_"Uh huh..." Merle hummed, "Any detail of that even slightly true?"_

_"The thing about the leeches might be. Oh, and the whiskey. But as for the dinosaurs, mummies and jetpacks, and kittens... No..." Lacey fessed up._

_"Alright, how 'bout we talk about something that is real? Huh?"_

_"Fine. I guarantee it won't be as entertaining as dinosaurs on a spaceship..."_

_"Wanna talk about your brothers?"_

.

.

Had Lacey known the whims of a mad woman were met so easily and quickly she would have started demanding things much, much earlier. It was her fifth month in Woodbury. Or at least she thought it was, she tried to keep up with a system to track the days but she was slacking. The weather had a slight chill to it, so as she stalked around the closed off town she kept her hands buried deeply into the pockets of her brother's hoodie, both hands clutched around the small box concealed within.

_"Sweetheart, I'm tellin' you-"_

_"And __**I'm **_tellin_' __**you**__, just give me the whole pack. If I'm caught with it it won't be so bad. But _you_?" she scoffed, "You're a model citizen, people respect you, you're a guard, you're important and known! The consequences, and I can't even begin to imagine the slander from the people, the people that once respected you, oh, the looks they'll give you-"_

_"Alright, alright! Just shut your damn trap."_

_"We wouldn't be having this problem if you hadn't of realized I was stealing from your hidden pack."_

_"Sure, sure. Blame it on me." he rolled his eyes, but he couldn't contain the smile she brought to his face, he handed her the pack, "Just find a place near a wall, fellas won't give a fuck either way if you're smokin', just don't try-"_

_"Leaving? I wouldn't dream of it, dear. Now give me the damn lighter and I'll be on my merry way."_

_"Pretty girl like you shouldn't be smokin'."_

_Lacey snorted, "There's a lot of things I shouldn't be..."_

She settled against a section of relocated chain link fencing in front of a long flat bed of a truck, any hopes she had of standing atop the perimeter wall were quashed when one of the guards, Tim, eyed her with a glare. She slumped against the metal links and pulled the pack of cigarettes from her sweater pocket, she shook out one stick and placed it between her lips before she dug around her pants pocket for the lighter.

Lacey closed her eyes with the first inhale, and sighed the toxic smoke out a few moments later. She stowed the pack and lighter back in her pockets and took another puff.

"Yuck," she clicked her tongue in disgust and flicked the ash from the tip. She nursed the cig with slow inhales.

"_And those who loved before will be brought back together. And so they say baby, for everything a reason. And so they say baby you will be brought... brought back to me..._" she sang quietly, eyes closed, tears stung behind her eyelids but she refused to let them get any farther than that. She let out another sigh and let her eyes fall open to stare at the dirt.

"Didn't know you smoked." a voice said from above her with that unmistakable accent. Through the curtain of her hair she could see his feet shift on the ground, toed and kicked at the dirt until he walked with careful steps to stand beside her. Keenan sat next to Lacey and for a while didn't utter a single syllable, very much aware of how awkward he was and the tension that was between them. She didn't raise her gaze, she simply and quietly puffed away on her slowly shrinking cancer stick.

Keenan heaved a sigh and crossed his arms after another minute of silence, "Go on then... Let me have it."

For a moment he thought she wouldn't grace him with a reply at all, as she took a particularly long inhale, but then as she exhaled she looked at him, "You're an asshole..." she blew the rest of the smoke downward, "And you should really consider shaving your face. Beards work most of the time, but it ain't happ'nin' for you."

She had startled a chuckle out of him, a grin appeared on his face, "Is that it?"

She paused to look up in thought, took another puff then nodded, "Yeah."

His grin fell away a few moments later, when he remembered why he had plucked up enough courage to approach her, "I'm sorry, Lacey. I really am."

"Doesn't change the fact that you called me a _hoor_, which by the way, nicely done. That touch of home, just made it sting so much more. Thought it was Ben or even my own father hissing their hate at me. Well done. Just really. You might not walk away with the little gold guy, but you'll totally be nominated."

"Lacey, stop. You don't have to act like this. I know it's just your way of coping, a, uh, what do you call it, uhh..."

"Defense mechanism?" she supplied.

"Yes, that."

Her brow rose in amusement, "If you say so..."

Keenan sighed, defeated for the moment. "I didn't know you could sing." he mumbled after another bout of silence.

Lacey bit back a chuckle, "There's a lot you don't know about me..." she flicked the ash away, "And to think we were going to be married after five months '_together_'..."

"I still love you."

"Woah! Way to build up to it, Kee."

"How can the feeling just be gone!? Like you said, we were going to be _married_!" Keenan declared loudly, and turned toward her. He calmed his tone and his body language when he saw her flinch, he spoke softer, "We were in love."

Lacey scoffed and stubbed out the cigarette in the dirt, "We probably only saw each other a grand total of a ten times. You met my brothers once..." she raised a single finger as she made that point, "You were _never_ there. You weren't there when all this shit started. You didn't think to call me until almost a month after it began." Keenan made a motion to interrupt, to defend himself, but she continued, "Sure, we talked, but we don't know _anything_ about each other. Nothing to go off of and believe a stable and successful marriage could be built on... You really think it would've worked?"

"Why does that matter when I _know_ that I love you."

"Because you don't even know me!" she almost shouted, she winced slightly and then took a cleansing breath, "If it were any other pretty face in scrubs in charge of your father you would have done the exact same thing. You don't know me, Kee... Not like he does."

"Is that why that Dixon bastard is so adamant about watching over you?" Keenan muttered with a scowl.

"He's adamant because he cares about me... Knows me... And I'm part of his family now."

"Just because his brother put a ring on your finger doesn't mean tha-"

"Doesn't it though?" she cut him off, "Don't get into this discussion with me, Keenan. I was sure you originally came here to apologize, so why don't you just keep it at that."

Keenan nodded and withheld another chest collapsing sigh, "Just," he started slowly, "The likelihood you'll ever see him again-" he paused when her face pinched in sadness, "I'm here for you, is what I'm... Is what I'm trying to say."

"Thanks, Kee."

He nudged her arm with his elbow, "I'll be honest with you. Half the reason I came over here? They wanted me to make sure you weren't planning another escape." he smirked, "You weren't planning anything, were you?"

"Oh, you know, I just have this spoon in my pocket and was going to dig the greatest tunnel system ever made." she grinned when Keenan broke into laughter, "Leader of a society of mole people. But my schemes have been thwarted! Damnation!" she laughed...

With each week that passed Keenan begged for the task of Lacey's caretaker. These conversations were, of course, not in the presence of said looney. Ownership over her was fought like ownership over land, or a cow... or a steak. And every time The Governor would state that Merle was the best person to care for Lacey, he knew her, he knew how to calm her, he had enough muscle that if he needed to restrain her by physical means he could do so... even though she had kicked his ass all those months ago, and that was when he had both his hands.  
It was all a part of Keenan's ploy to win her heart again, though with each new moment they shared together, he doubted she had ever loved him. The whole relationship was one sided. He pleaded for a real explanation from her, why she would have ever agreed to him in the first place if she didn't love him, but that would be when she would shut down, or break into one of her episodes, and Dr. Stevens or Merle would shoo him away. All he wanted to know was why. Why, why, why, why, why. Why would she agree? Why did she even agree to another date after the first one? Why would she lead him on? Why was Merle's brother so great? Why wasn't he here with her? Why had she agreed to him!? But most of all he wondered WHY DID HE STILL LOVE HER!?

He wasn't sure... But he had this overwhelming need to take care of her, especially after what she had said to him when they spoke sitting against the wall. He wanted to be there for her now. Forever, if possible. But he was denied. Merle was more fit for the job, what ever the hell that meant.

It didn't put Keenan's mind at ease, and it never would until _he_ was her guardian. But that day... well it wasn't scheduled any day soon. And through Keenan's uneasy mind came Merle's frustration. Every night his concern came in the form of three frantic knocks on Merle's door. Every night Merle would answer, verbally bash him, sometimes not, though he wished to do so physically- Lacey had begged him not to, always saying even if he did beat the tar out of Keenan he still wouldn't stop worrying about her. Though they were no longer together, she was basically all he had left from the world _before_.

And Keenan would hold tight to that last link to the world _before_, hold tight and never let go...

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.

There was a knock against the kitchen's door frame, Lacey turned, surprised she didn't hear the steps that led up to the kitchen, and saw half a figure leaned into the doorway, a sheepish look on his face.

"Hi," he started with a small wave, "the door was open and I just wanted to make sure that-,"

"I hadn't run off." she nodded and turned the knob that killed the fire on the stove top and slid her eggs onto a plate.

"That you were alright." Keenan corrected, a slight upturn appeared at the corners of his mouth.

"Why, in the happiest town on Earth might I get burgled?" she faked scandalized, "This is Merle's house, you know it, I know it, everyone knows it. Nobody's even thinking about coming in here with a shady agenda... And I think he wouldn't be too happy about you being here." she mused as she rummaged through the kitchen drawers and cupboards for a fork and glass before taking a seat at the table with her breakfast in front of her.

His face fell, "Oh... Yeah..." he shifted awkwardly in the doorway and turned his head back to the front door, then back to her where a smirk pulled at her mouth as she chewed her first forkful, "Should I- Did you want me to le-,"

She rolled her eyes and gestured to the chair beside her, "Have a seat, Kee."

He didn't hesitate, he took the offer and sat. "You're sure you don't mind? I mean, I was just passing by and I-"

"It's alright," she mumbled, and took notice of her empty glass, she could have sworn she filled that up with something, the crease in her brow fell away, "He said he'd be gone today. I'm not setting you up for an ass beating."

Keenan visibly relaxed, and Lacey chuckled.

"Did you sleep well?" he wondered after a few silent moments passed with just the sound of her fork clinking and scraping against the plate filling the small home.

"Seriously? You sound like a grandma." she grinned, "I slept fine though."

"Good." Keenan nodded, unbothered by her grandmother comment.

"Yeah. Haven't had any nightmares for a while either. None that I can remember at least. Must be the tea..." she said and finished off her eggs, the plate all but licked clean, quoth the Gov'nah, 'Waste not'. She stood and took the dishes to the sink, she let the water run from the spout for three seconds then shut it off, again, waste not.

"I missed tea. It was such a long time since I had a cup." she mumbled, hands braced on the countertop.

"I can assure you the tea is simply that. No special brew."

"Hm." she took the glass from the table, filled it with water and took a long sip, "Maybe it's the familiarity that relaxes me then..."

"Maybe." Keenan gave a nod in agreement.

"The nightmares are so horrible," she looked into her glass, "My body tries to kick awake, but even then I'm still so dreary and it's-" she shook her head, "Unpleasant."

They switched off the topic of sleep and nightmares, and ping ponged off other subjects until a little after noon. The doc made her appearance at the front door which caused Keenan to take his leave. He excused himself and insisted he should've been in Milton's company over an hour ago.

"See ya 'round, Kee." Lacey bid him.

And that seemed to cause him to halt just beyond the stoop, he turned with a chuckle, "More and more you're starting to sound like them. Speaking with a southern drawl, I mean. Do I sound like them too?"

"No way are you even close to sounding anything like a southerner." she snorted, "But that brogue has definitely started fade the tiniest bit... And you know I'd make the best southern belle in all of Georgia." she tweaked her voice into a full on accent.

Dr. Stevens shook her head with a small smile while Keenan barked out a laugh. He waved the women off and started for Milton's.

"Good time with Grady?" the doc asked as they headed for the infirmary.

Lacey shrugged, "Wasn't not pleasant."

The doc just laughed at her backwards answer as they arrived the Hospital of Woodbury and made their way inside...

Lacey was just in the middle of explaining the first kiss she and Daryl shared with the doctor when Milton entered the facility, huffing and out of breath.

"Sup, track star?" Lacey nodded.

The doc nudged her and it was a full minute before Milton could speak, and even then it was between gasps. While some of the guys were out they saw a chopper in the sky. Something that would've seemed hopeful was immediately crushed when it was further explained that they watched it go down. They found the wreckage and came up with three survivors. The Governor wanted the infirmary prepped and ready for the two that were injured.

"Alright," the doc nodded, "Any idea of when we'll be expecting them to arrive?"

"Ten minutes."

"Okay." she nodded again, "Lacey you can go on and head home, I've got this taken care of."

"But-" the blonde began to protest but Milton spoke up.

"It's already past curfew. Everyone else has already locked their doors, you should've-"

Lacey groaned loudly, like a child, "Fiiiiiiiiiine. I'm goin', I'm goin'."

She made her way home, by herself. She kept the door unlocked though and waited for Merle's return. And just as estimated, ten minutes passed and the trucks rolled in through the gates. She peeked out through the window to see the gun toting army wannabes shut the gate after the trucks. The trucks that contained three survivors.

"Oooh, boy." Lacey hummed and let the curtain fall back into place covering the window, "Catch of the day."

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* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead. I also don't own the quote I borrowed from Tommy Boy. I also do not own the lyrics to For Everything a Reason [Thank you to American Horror Story for that fucking song. Holy shit I've never wanted to cry so easily from listening to a song. Any AHS fans? I'm thinking of writing a oneshot for Murder House. Awww yeeeah.]

Shout out to XM for beta-ing, you life saver, you.

Also, hoor - whore, boor - a crude uncouth ill-bred person lacking culture or refinement. And now I'm not entirely sure if I used boor in the right context... Hm...

Happy Holidays and A Happy New Year as well!


	6. Chapter 6

What better way to end the year than with a filler chapter! Happy New Year!

* * *

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Lacey heaved a heavy sigh through her nose, shoulders slumped, elbows on her knees and her face perched in her hands. She gazed all around the familiar room. The infirmary, the 'hospital', her home away from home. She almost found it comical that she was, in a way, '_employed_' in the hospital of Woodbury. It always came back to care giving, even with her _fragile_ state of mind. She may have been billed as crazy, but that didn't mean she lost all her useful and necessary LPN skills and wonderful bedside manner. That's why she was there, seated in a chair beside the unconscious, injured soldier. So that when he woke up, he wouldn't be startled by a brutish mans mug, but rather her soft, pleasant features and calm, nuturing demeanor. In all honesty it was the Governor's idea, but she went along with it like it had been her own idea so she could feel less dirty about it.

She glanced at the soldier from the corner of her eye and sat up. His head as wrapped as well as it could be, given what supplies they had. The severity of his wound, the reprecussions that came with it, they weren't sure of what he'd face, but it wouldn't be positive.

"What if he's in a coma, doc?" she wondered aloud and turned to the woman who kept busy at the other end of the room.

"He's not in a coma." the doc responded easily, used to the blonde's musings.

"Yeah, but what if he is," Lacey said, "I mean, how shitty would that be... If he woke up, say, a year from now and this shit was still going on. O-or he woke up a year from now and this shit was totally over with... That would be nice... For him. Either way I'm diggin' the coma idea. How hard to you think you could hit m-"

From beside her she heard a shift and an audible wince, she spun back to the soldier and lay her hand gently over his, and tried not to spook him as she spoke softly over her shoulder, "Hey, hey, doc. We've got movement."

She stood up and made her presence known just Dr. Stevens rushed over, Lacey shushed the man, "Hey," she said softly, "Easy now. You aren't exactly in the perfect shape for that enormous morning stretch."

"Wh-Who-," the man's eyes blinked a few times, adjusting to the dim lighting, before he managed to open them to slits to see who was speaking to him, his eyes blurred in and out of focus on the two women who stood by him.

"I'm Lacey. This is Doc Stevens." she turned to the doc, "You want to go get him?" Dr. Stevens gave a short nod before she exited the room.

"There's something you should know," Lacey turned back to the man, she sat down in her chair again and scooted closer, she whispered quickly, "Now, I don't want to overload you with information just as you're gaining consciousness, but you need to know. This place, it _is_ a safe place- to an extent, it's just the man who's running it who's shady. He's an entire bag of nuts, ya get me? And I don't know what the hell happened to him that caused him to be this way, but he's bad news. He'll pour on the charm, that's his thing, but **do**. **Not**. **Trust him**. He'll say I'm crazy, or I'm mentally ill, and while that may be slightly true, I know what I'm talking about when I say once you enter the gates of hell you can't refund your ticket, ya know what I mean? The guy is the _devil_ incarnate. You've got to believe me. Lapse back into unconsciousness, fall back to sleep, fake sleep, anything so that you can gain your strength back up and escape."

"Wha... Why are you...still..." the soldier managed to utter enough words for Lacey to interpret as a question.

"Believe me, I've tried. I've got a brother-in-law and ex-fiance keeping me here, and no they're not the same person. Listen to me, soldier. Listen to me and believe what I say. Once the Governor welcomes you to Woodbury, there is no leaving."

"B... Bu-"

"Lacey," the door pushed open, the Gov himself making his grand entrance, "I'm sure your fairytales have entertained our injured man enough. She's a little strange up there," the Governor tapped his temple as he and Dr. Stevens entered the room, "Ever since we found her beaten and passed out in the middle of the woods, lost her baby too, she just can't seem to recover, so she creates these delusions. Purely for entertainment purposes, I assure you."

The soldier looked away from the Governor for a moment, and saw Lacey give the suave man a grin before she flashed him a stern face with wide eyes- '_Believe me!_' But of course the soldier wasn't sure what to think what with his mind still foggy and the conflicting stories given to him. The blonde had admitted to being somewhat less than sane, which meant she was sane enough to be aware of her current predicament, of her surroundings and the goings on of Woodbury, but...

"She was a nurse before all this, that's why she's here. Might not be all put together up there, but she's still in possession of some valuable skills." the Governor eyed her with a look and something in it seemed to cause the small blonde to admit silent defeat.

"Now..." the tall man came to stand on the other side of the soldier's bed, "You wanna tell us your name, what you can remember...? Maybe how you ended up in the situation we rescued you from, if you can recall it..."

The soldier looked to each person that surrounded him, eyes landing on Lacey for a brief moment and he saw that look of warning in her eyes again, just a brief moment, '_Please, I'm trying to help you._', but when he looked back to the Governor, after a long contemplating pause he gave a slight nod, "My... My-" he breathed, his voice dry and rasped. She deflated in defeat again, but waited with ready hands while Dr. Stevens fetched a glass of water and put a straw in it before passing it to her. The so-called crazed girl positioned the straw to the soldier's lips and he sipped slowly.

"Lieutenant Welles." he said, and after another small sip he began his tale.

"Things were orderly. The fences held. People were protected. Food supplies were lasting, then one of the men inside got bit, not sure how. He went haywire. Panic swept through the camp. Someone opened up the gate to escape, then others were bitten and infected. These people went crazy. The whole place went to hell in a few hours. My team grabbed what ever supplies and vehicles we could and abandoned our post," Welles scratchy voice paused, he coughed some and Lacey brought the straw near his lips again. He took a short sip while the Governor shot at look at Dr. Stevens. The doc glanced at Lacey and the soldier before she made her leave.

"How many of you escaped?"

"There was ten in my group. We, uh," he paused when the blonde took a cool washclothe to his head and dabbed away at the perspiration. For a mad woman she was good at this nursing gig, wasn't too bad to look at either, those green eyes rimmed in kohl. Gentle smile, gentle touch. Welles looked away from the blonde, back to the Governor, "We got maybe 60 miles from the post before getting jammed up on the highway. I took the bird up in the air to scout ahead. She took a beating in the ride, but we had no choice..." he paused again, fearful of the answer he would recieve to his next wondering, "My guys?"

Lacey looked expectantly at the Governor as well and watched as he gave a solemn shake of his head. She slipped her hand into Welles when his features pulled into despair. The Governor leaned foward, quietly he started, "Let me go find the rest. Bring 'em here. They'll be safe. They're out there waitin' for you, exposed. Tell me where they are and I promise if they're still alive, I'll bring 'em in."

Welles gave a short, teary eyed nod, and The Governor mimicked it before he sat up straight again and looked to Lacey. Her jaw was clenched as she met his gaze, a glare in her eye that spoke volumes to him, but he couldn't care less about what she thought of him. She swiped at Lt. Welles face and neck with the washclothe once more and offered him more water, all with the Governor's penetrating gaze on her, before she made her leave.

Lacey exited the infirmary with a heaviness in her limbs. Every time. Every damn time, she tried to save them, but they just wouldn't listen. She had a prettier face than the Governor's, surely, but apparently it wasn't trustworthy enough... Especially when everyone was caling her crazy... The Governor, she scoffed and shook her head, "_Smiled and lit our broken souls," _the perfect villain. She'd done her best, she'd tried to convince the man, the injured soldier, and she almost had him, but then the towering figure, the comforting drawl of his voice, caring eyes...

_"The knight of all our dreams. Oooh... Mr. Johnson one last bow. And then leave us to fate..._" she muttered under her breath as she took a moment to soak up the sunlight and then walked through the grass to the main road. All the citizens were out, most of them at least. The children were at school, the adults were at work, and Lacey the Loon was wandering around putting everyone ill at ease. Sometimes it was a fun pass time for her, other times...

In spite of the warm, comfortable weather Lacey still donned her brother's hoodie, as well as her boots. She stuffed her hands into the sweaters pockets and kept her head somewhere between slumped and carefree, her emotions still conflicted.

She wasn't sure what she should do then. Most of the time while others went to '_work_', she was hanging out in the hospital with Dr. Stevens, or Merle was keeping her company at home. But Merle was out and about and she'd been kicked out of the infirmary... She chewed on her lip, were there two or three sticks left in Merle's pack...? If there were three she wouldn't feel bad about taking one, but if there were two. "Fuck." she puffed out a groan. She needed one, _needed_ it. Merle would just have to find it somewhere in his heart to forgive her.

.

Andrea and Michonne strolled down the lane after Rowan left them to their own devices. Michonne had a permanent scowl painted on her face while Andrea seemed to enjoy the normality of the town, though she was still very much on her guard. They were wary of the citizens, just like the citizens were wary of them. But it was a long jacketed, clunky boot wearing, blonde haired citizen with her wincing face tilted skyward that caught Andrea's attention. She did a double take. She was sure she was seeing things, definitely, there was no way that-

"Is that... Lacey?" she murmured to Michonne and nodded in the direction of the girl across the street. Purple sundress, black raggedy zip-up hoodie that clearly wasn't originally hers, those boots. The image was half made. Exchange the dress for some jeans and a grimy t-shirt, shorter hair and decked out with a long blade hanging from her hip and a shorter one on the other side.

Michonne followed the direction of Andrea's attention was focused on, her scowl disappeared for a moment or two, eyes widened. As the blonde girl walked the other citizens seemed to veer away from her, made an effort to evade her path. But it couldn't be her... Could it? Michonne swept with long, but calm strides across the street, Andrea hot on her heels as they closed in on the could-be-Lacey doppelganger.

Michonne and Andrea tried her name, quietly, so as not to gain any attention from the other townspeople. But when that didn't elicit a response, and the girl just continued to just sing under her breath, Michonne barked hushedly, "Dixon!"

The woman startled, her gaze swung all around her before her eyes rested on a familiar pair, an ebony skinned woman and a sickly looking blonde. Her entire being seemed to straighten and brighten.

.

"Thought that title was out of the question." Michonne allowed herself a glimmer of a smirk as she closed the space between her and the still shocked blonde.

Lacey hugged the woman back, and Andrea when she finally approached, eyes wide, but mouth in a bright smile, "How'd you two-, What are you-, How-, But-," Lacey couldn't find the the right words, they were all in her head, jumbled together, and coming from her mouth just as unsorted.

Andrea just laughed in disbelief, "Have you been here the entire time?"

"Yeah, yeah," Lacey laughed, but then immediately sobered, the mood change so sudden that it almost made the other women step back, "Yes..." her eyes were wider than before, this time with fear, "You can't be here. You have to leave. Now. Quickly! I can create a diversion, I'm pretty good at those now. But you _have_ to listen to me, you need to go, this place-,"

"Woah, slow down, Lacey." Andrea rested a hand on her shoulder.

"No! You can't be slow, you have to be fast. They're organized, they're quick, they may not be trained military but they know what they're doing. They know how to keep this cage in check. You have to-,"

"This place seems fine, from what we've been told. And if it's so bad why haven't you left?"

"I've tried, believe me. I'm sure there are records with every detail of my attempts, but even if I managed to leave, I have no sense of direction. I dropped my weapons all those months ago, they barely trust me with a butter knife." she shook her heard, "Andrea, they won't _let_ me go... And now that they've got you... They won't let you go either."

She glanced between the two women before her gaze fell to the sidewalk, "And I'm done with trying to leave. They won't let me, and I..." she bit the inside of her cheek, "I can't..."

"You don't want to leave? But..." Andrea shook her head, a laugh on her breath, "But your girls. Your brother, Sam, Daryl, for Christ's sake!"

Lacey raised a finger to her lips and grabbed each woman by the arm, and tugged them around from the building's shade they'd previously been in to hide around the corner, away from the public eye.

"I can't leave. I'm weak..."

"Weak? You're one of the most capable women I have _ever_ met, Lacey-"

"I can't... I just-" Lacey sighed, "I've got Merle and Keenan to worry about, though 99% of the time it's them worrying about me. But still I-," her brow scrunched as she abruptly paused, "Sam..." the name came out in a whisper, "This whole time I thought she'd guided you all back to the group. Where is she?"

Andrea and Michonne shared a glance, but neither went to answer immediately, and before Lacey could raise the question again a commotion from the main street interrupted them.

"Has anyone seen Ms. Black? Lacey Black?"

Lacey growled, "We'll have to talk later." she nodded to Michonne, who gave her a short nod back.

"We're supposed to meet The Governor at his home for breakfast." Andrea said, and peeked around the corner to see that bearded guy with the accent who'd been with the Governor and Merle the night previous, showing her and Michonne Woodbury by torch and moon light. The safety they would be provided. He seemed just as charismatic as the Governor.

"Oh, breakfast date, huh?" Lacey's brow bounced once when Andrea turned back toward her, "I don't want to give you the wrong idea, but if he's not taking you out to dinner, I don't think he's serious. Best not to mention me to His Leadership." Lacey grinned and moved around the corner, and tossed, "Have fun." over her shoulder before she skipped into street and called, "I'm here, Keenan! I'm here. Stop with all the shouting, you'll make them think you're catching crazy from me."

.

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"Why. Didn't. You. Tell. Me. Andrea. Was. Here!?" Lacey punctuated each word with a slap on Merle's arm which he hardly flinched at. She growled and huffed and stepped away from him with clenched fists that she ultimately rested on her hips, all while she glared at him, "By the way, you've got one cigarette left."

After she dismissed Keenan of his constant worry and concern by telling him she was heading home she did just that, and paced the living room, paced her room, paced the kitchen until she dug out Merle's pack of cigs and lit up. Not bothering to go outside or even open a window, she didn't care what the repercussions would be when the house would have that obvious odor. Her friends, the ones she'd been stolen from, were here now. And they most definitely were not safe here. Sure, she was still alive after all the months she was imprisoned here, but with each month, each day that passed the Govenor gained more and more power, more dominion over this town... Soon he wouldn't have drum up some fake incident to cover up someones disappearance. She was fully aware of the business that went one behind his lies, the speeches he'd give when he addressed the people. A well tailored falsity that the people just ate up without question... The fresh blood on clothes that was present whenever new supplies or weapons that were accumulated... all of it came with a price in the form of unnecessaary death. The saved people that succumbed to their wounds or just vanished. They weren't safe here, no one was _really_ safe here. Each was as expendable as the next, if the Governor saw it fit.

"I was gonna tell ya later. Break it to ya slowly. I didn't want you to freak out." Merle's explanation came with a shrug.

"Freak out!?" she barked in laughter, her tone bordering on hysterical, "Well nice job preventing that!"

Merle ran his hand over his face and through his hair, "Darlin', I gotta go now. We'll talk later."

"No, no. No, we won't. Conversation over. You just go ahead and execute Order 66."

Merle inhaled through his nose, mouth in a tight line, he didn't respond, he just headed for the door.

"You'll probably want to search the bodies for a new pack while you're at it!" she called after him just before the door slammed. The house rattled and she closed her eyes with a sigh.

She needed to talk to them again. Talk some sense into them after the Governor undoubtedly poured his hypnotic charm all over them. If she couldn't save herself, she'd sure as hell try to save them.

.

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"I told him we knew you."

"What?! No! Why?! Why would you do that?! Oh god, now this whole operation is for naught. For naught! Andrea! Goddamnit..."

Lacey had sat on the sidewalk outside the Governor's building after Merle left to prepare for the impending journey to the soldiers stranded on the highway. She chewed on a nail and picked at the nailpolish, thoughts running rampant in her mind about the soldiers that would meet their ultimate demise upon sight of the Governor's friendly smile and faux white flag. Her friends were now trapped here with her and there wasn't anything she could do to save them. They were fucked in a whole new way. She didn't hear them when they left the building she was so wrapped up in her thoughts. She sprang up when she saw their familiar forms walking away and caught up just when Andrea smiled saying, "Just give this place a day or two, that's all I'm asking... Some time to get our shit together."...

"He said you've been suffering from mental breaks. You're delusional, and countless times you've endangered the lives of these people and yourself." Andrea listed off as if she were reading Lacey the offences on her criminal record.

"Oh, what a sport. He always swerves away from the C word." Lacey rolled her eyes and shoved her fingers into her hair, one hand pulled away from her locks to drum her fingers against her mouth as she mumbled under breath, "What to do, what to do, what to do..."

"I don't understand what the problem is though, Lace. It's fine here, the Governor seems like a nice guy."

"I don't trust him-," "Don't trust him-!" Michonne and Lacey spoke at nearly the same time.

"Listen... I don't think either of you have room to debate this." Andrea stated, all of them came to a halt on the sidewalk, "Lacey, you aren't exactly as level headed as I remember, and Mich, we spent the last seven months together and I feel like I hardly even know you. You know everything about me and I-"

"You know enough." Michonne said.

Lacey's mouth was in a scowl similar to Michonne's, "You may not know everything about her, but she's kept you alive for all those months... I knew you before this. You knew my brothers, you saw me lose them _and_ children, _my_ little brother and _your_ little sister are **in** **love** with each other..." she tilted her head to the side, "But you still choose to believe what a stranger says about me..."

Andrea's gaze wavered, "Lacey-"

"No. No, Andrea. You don't- You can't understand..." she sighed, "You know the saying about books and covers? This is one fucked up book you do **not** want to judge by its cover." she paused and when she was met with silence she sighed again and shook her head in disbelief, a scoff that sounded like a chuckle, "There's one more cigarette at home and Merle isn't goin' to get it." Lacey stepped around Andrea and walked down the street, away.

Andrea watched her go, and turned back to Michonne to see her fixed with a look on her face, she walked away too. Following what she was sure was Lacey's path to her '_home_'.

.

Lacey was seated against the backdoor, rolling the last cigarette between her fingers, the thumb of her other hand worried at the lighter's smooth plastic surface. She shook her head at the thoughts speaking over each other in her head; it was chaos in there. She rubbed at her temple with the hand that held the lighter. She was about to light up when she heard a knock from within the house...

They were seated at the kitchen table. After offering something to drink or eat Lacey cracked open the window behind the sink and finally lit the cigarette.

Michonne eyed her, her face void of expression.

"You're not crazy." she said after Lacey tossed the lighter down on the table with a clatter.

"Thanks." the cigarette bobbed between her lips, it seemed like the right thing to respond with, she rested her arms on the table, one hand raised to hold and rub at her forehead.

"You look... different." Mich noted slowly.

Lacey smirked and took the white stick from her lips, "Bleeding between my legs wasn't exactly my finest hour."

"No, I mean. You're not so boney anymore. You're wearing a dress... and makeup. You've got nailpolish on your damn fingernails. What the hell's that all about?" Lacey took a long puff as Michonne said that.

"In the simplest of explanations, I've been stripped of my rank and my strength..." she blew the smoke out and tapped the ash into the tray, that was actually just a shot glass, "If I scream for something I get it. I screamed for nailpolish. Perks of being a nutjob. As for the dresses? Can't get very far with something that's so grabbable, ya know? Human or biter, something'll catch me, latch on. That's why the Governor gave me these clothes... The makeup..." she shrugged, "It's been a while since I put any on... sort of missed it, ya know?" she rested her forehead in her palm, "This is the closest to what I looked like _before_. I almost feel like myself again... Aside from the crazy, of course. Rising with the sun, putting makeup on, going to '_work_'." she used finger quotes, the cigarette bobbed between her lips again, and the color on her mouth stained onto the filter from the pressure, "There's a lot missing though. But I... I think this is it... for me."

Michonne rose a brow.

"Woodbury." Lacey said, "Woodbury is it for me."

"You can't think that. After all you said about this place, about the Governor-,"

"You and Andrea still have a chance. I'm... I'm stuck here. I'm going to die here... I may not like it, but... that's how it's gonna be, Mich." she paused for a moment, staring at the shot glass, and the wood of the table through the clear glass, but not really seeing much of anything at all, "I'll still help you though, whenever Andrea is through '_gettting her shit together_'," she pulled out the fingers quotes again, "What ever the hell that means."

"And until then I'll keep tryin' to convince you to get out of here with us."

Lacey smiled, "Good luck with trying to convince my handlers."

"They gave you a house, some independence." Mich noted, and Lacey just shook her head.

"Merle's. I'm more of a piece of furinture that occupys space here... And eats food and steals smokes."

"Do you... like these people?" Michonne asked as if it were an appalling secret.

"These people? They're fine. They don't particularly enjoy my company. But..." she shrugged and stubbed out the cigarette, it was just a centimeter close to the filter, she put her hands into her lap and leaned forward, "It's the ones who're stationed around the town, protecting it. The ones that get orders directly from the Governor that I worry about. Aside from Merle."

"Of all the people..." Michonne rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair.

"I know. He's an asshole, but he's my friend. My brother-in-law actually, something he loves to constantly remind me."

"Hate to see what your man looks like." the other woman grumbled with a slight upturn of her lips.

"He's actually quite handsome... Wish he'd smile more often. And he's much different compared to his brother... very different..." Lacey's fingers twisted at the ring on her finger. Well kept, untarnished, but far more scratched than it originally was. Michonne noticed the way her- well, she considered her a friend (though they only knew each other for a few short hours before she was savagely stolen away and had apparently been here the entire time)- friend's expression grew distant, a frown on her mouth, a watery sheen to her eyes... Though they'd only known each for a short time she knew this wasn't right, this wasn't Lacey, this wasn't even the _before_ Lacey. This place, the Governor, he'd broken her... The Governor himself had explained how mad the girl could be, at the breakfast table he'd shared a couple of episodes he'd witnessed first hand. Psychotic breaks, he called them. If anything she seemed a little spacey, definitely not psychotic, at least Michonne thought so. She seemed so fragile now, physically, mentally and in spirit... She couldn't help but wonder-

"So you haven't had any trouble...?" she phrased the question carefully. Hoping she understood what she meant, hoping not to trigger anything.

But Lacey just snorted, "Mich, no one wants to stick their dick in crazy."

The other woman deflated in relief, but warned, "Don't underestimate people."

Lacey breathed out a quiet laugh but then paused, a few completely still moments passed before she looked to Michonne with scared, imploring eyes, "Sam...?"

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Michonne and Lacey were seated among a wrought iron lawn furniture set in the shadow of a tall building when the gate was opened and the trucks rolled in. But it wasn't just the trucks and cars that originally departed. Army humvees, tanks... But the personnel that were authorized to operate said machinery were absent, '_Huh_', Lacey's thoughts scoffed, '_Imagine that, they were too late...again._'

The women's gazes scoured the new vehicles as the men poured out and started to shift supplies from the vehicles to where ever they were needed. When Merle shot a glance to where Lacey was and raised a brow she didn't break her steely expression. And when his face pulled something that translated into, 'What the fuck?', she finally tore her gaze away to look where all the townspeople were drawn to. The Governor, in all his glory, surrounded by his loot.

He climbed up onto the flatbed of one of the trucks, looking out among his subjects.

"Oh!" Lacey perked up and tapped Michonne's knee, "Have a listen, this is gonna be good."

For a few moments the Governor just stood high above his people, basking in the power, before he finally spoke, voice loud, authoritative, yet alluring. One couldn't help but give him all their attention. "We brought in three new people yesterday. One was a helicopter pilot with a national guards outfit. Even though he's clinging to life he told us about his convoy on the highway- his men. I promised I'd bring 'em back here alive."

"Aaand here we go." Lacey commentated quietly.

The Governor continued solemnly, "But they didn't have our walls or our fences. Biters got there before we did."

"Oh, I'm sure they did." Lacey grumbled only loud enough that Michonne could hear, not that anyone else who heard her snarky comments would take her seriously. But she'd rather not be tattled on.

"Now the men had trucks. The trucks had weapons, food, medicine, things we need. We didn't know them, but we will honor their sacrifice by not taking here what we have for granted."

"Oh, no. Of course not." the comment was muttered with a growl.

"Won't be long before dark so go on home. Be thankful for what you have. Watch out for each other." the Governor concluded, and the crowd dispersed as he hopped down onto the street.

"Be thankful for what you have while the man we tricked into trusting us, and giving away his friends position, cutting their lives short, and stealing all their shit, is now being smothered to death. Sleep tight." Lacey mocked.

"What do you mean smothered?" Michonne asked as Lacey stood up.

The girl waved her off, "It's too late now. Probably been dead and starting the turning process for the last three minutes. Standard protocol." she summed up with a shrug and eased herself out of the chair.

Michonne's expression was apalled and confused, "How do you-,"

"I've seen and heard things. Hence the dirty looks I've shot at my beloved's sibling. But if he's smart," she smirked, "my forgiveness will come after he's apologized in the form of my tea being piping hot and ready for me on the table by the time I get home." the blonde stuffed her hands into her sweater pockets.

"I'd ask you to come stay over, but I've got this roomie who's a little stingy about guests when he's scheduled for night watch, and I'm not sure your mom would let you, so I'll see you tomorrow." Lacey started to walk backwards into the street.

"If you know all this why don't you say something to someone, anyone?" Michonne stood up now, noting that Andrea was waiting for her just outside the building wherein their accomodations were found.

Lacey sighed, "Countless times we've come into weaponry, or vehicles, or other supplies. A few times, rarely, it really is just pure luck... Other times though..." she shook her head, "The Governor has a way of creating his own luck..." her shoulders offered half a shrug as she continued walking backwards, "No one's going to listen to a crazy person, Mich." she turned around, and continued to walk her path toward the house she shared with Merle.

She turned around once more as she called, "If there's one thing I've learned when encountering other humans since the world went to shit, it's this... Trust no bitch."

Michonne watched as Lacey turned and stepped up her pace, muttering about her tea, dodging citizens all the while until she was gone from sight. Crazy or not, she was right about one thing: no bitch could be trusted in this world. And while Andrea seemed to be blinded by the glamour of stability that was Woodbury, Michonne knew where her loyalties lie. They needed to get out of there, preferrably with Lacey in tow.

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Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead. I don't own the Star Wars reference I used either. And anything else I've forgotten to deny ownership over... AH! I don't own the lyrics to Mr. Johnson Take A Bow. There... I think that's it...

Thanks to XM for beta'ing and dealing with my shitty grammar and punctuation and insane emails. Also thanks to Rexi, her excitement warms my cold, cold heart )


	7. Chapter 7

Note: If anyone is interested, I think there's a song that goes along well with the last chapter. From Lacey's point of view, and although it's really about drugs, I think it's relatable to her situation in Woodbury. So go (_**if**_ you're interested) to youtube or some site that let's you listen to music and put in the search: Weak and Powerless by A Perfect Circle. I love, love, love A Perfect Circle, Tool and Puscifer [Maynard you wonderful, wonderful smug bastard], but I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, BUT YEAH! I suppose if you hate the music you could still take a gander at the lyrics... I'm gonna shut up now. ON TO THE CHAPTER! OH! And by the way, thank thank thank you for the reviews! Much obliged!

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The next morning in the prison, with everyone gathered in the common area beside the cell block, Jo spoke up after he dropped his spoon into his stale, expired cereal with putrid tasting powdered milk. Sure food was food, but _damn_. Choking something down was never so literal. He cleared his throat as a precursor to his speech, "I know we've got more, uh, pressing priorities to tend to, but I wondered if I might have permission to search for the library..." he paused when all eyes were on him, looking at him as if he'd grown another head, he went on to explain, "If this is going to become, ya know, permanent, then I figured we might try to find some books, like in the camp in Atlanta, we could start giving the kids lessons again, the basics, nothing hardcore like trigonometry or neurology, though both probably good things to know. I mean the everyday-know-how things, and I'm sure there's other shi- stuff," he caught himself, "that might be interesting to read... Just an idea."

"I'll go with you, Jo." Carl said after there had been the briefiest moment of silence following Jo's words.

There were sighs all around, pointed-dreaded-parenting looks from Lori and Rick aimed at Carl.

"What? What's the big deal? Sophia and I found the infirmary, we can find the library." Carl shrugged, and Sophia nodded.

Rick said his sons name in warning.

"Wait. By yourselves?" Sam asked the boy with a nudge of her elbow.

"Yeah." he nodded like it wasn't the biggest deal at all. A ten year old and a twelve year old duo of walker-killing-saving-the-day-ery...ness.

"Badass." Sam laughed. Sophia and Carl grinned at her, but at the sight of glares coming from almost every adult Sam dropped her own smile and cleared her throat, "Er, I mean... That was a very dangerous thing to do. Imagine if the worst had happened while you two were off on your own. No one knowing where you were."

"I knew." Erin said quietly.

Sam continued, trying to smother her smirk, "How awful would that have been? How do you think your parents would have felt, and everyone else? Next time you should get an adult to go with you."

"That's right. And the same will go for you, Sam."

"What?!" Sam exclaimed loudly, her voice bouncing of the walls a couple times hitting them again as she stared wild eyed at Rick.

"I don't care how long you've been out on your own, you're back in this group, you'll follow the groups rules." Rick explained with a short shrug in his shoulders like '_take or leave it, chick_'. But they all sure as hell knew she wasn't going to leave it. Hell no, not when she just found it again.

"Bogus." Sam slumped forward on the table and nestled her head into her arms.

Some giggled, chuckled under their breath, and Jo snorted, "Did you stumble upon an 80's phrase book while you were out there? You sound just like Lace-" Jo's words fell short, for a few moments he chewed on his lip before he spoke again, disregarding his last statement entirely, "So! Say it was... Me, a responsible adult-,"

"That's debatable." Amy coughed from beside him.

Jo's eyes narrowed into a glare but he kept on, "Sam, Carl and Sophia, looking for the library. Would that be acceptable?"

The kids, including Sam who lifted her head from her arms quickly, grinned brightly toward Rick.

"I'll go too." Carol offered.

"And we have a team!" Jo exclaimed with open arms, but they still waited for Rick's okay, which came a minute later in the form of a short nod. "Team Alpha is a go!" Jo said in triumph, fist pumped into the air. The kids laughed, as did some of the adults, but most of them shook their heads while hiding their smirks.

"Team Alpha?" Sophia asked with a smile.

"We need a cool team name." Jo explained as if it were one of the most simple of things in the world. Sam snorted and buried her face into her arms again.

"Why do we need a cool team name?" Carl then asked with a chuckle in his voice.

"Because it's cool! Accept it, Carl. Just accept it." Jo sighed. The room dissolved into laughter again and more head shaking. Jo just grinned, "Back me up Carol, these kids obviously need a '_real_' adults reasoning."

.

"Find anything good?" Daryl asked when Team Alpha returned two hours after their departure after breakfast. The entire mission was mostly killing walkers, getting lost and then finding the library, doing a sweep, lingering and quick browsing and then bailing before they were cornered.

"Nothing in the way of, uh, children's reading, yet. _Catcher in the Rye_, _Tuesday's With Morrie_, _A Tale of Two Cities_, _Pride and Prejudice_, even, which I found a little strange, since you know, male maximum security prison," she gestured vaguely around them, "But whatever." Sam shrugged, and slipped a battered copy of _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_ from her bag. Daryl saw and thought, that seemed about right, Lacey would probably like that kind of stuff too, mystery, adventure... "There was some educational stuff too, but it seemed a bit advanced for twelve and younger readers. Also, found an ancient skin mag in the librarian's desk, well, Carl did. And I quickly snatched it away before he could catch his first glimpse of bare boob... or anything else bare."

"Wouldn't'a killed him. Lot of the time shit's not in direct view anyway."

Sam's brow rose, amused, "Oh, it's not...?" she grinned, "And am I to believe you perused the occasional Playboy or some other nakie-ladies-magazine purely for the articles?"

"Shut up."

"I'm not gonna say gross, but rather... _wow_..."

"Don't judge me, sis." he rolled his eyes.

"What? Judging? Who's judging? I'm not judging what you deem worthy for your spank bank."

Daryl pulled a truly horrified and disgusted face, "Shut up. Read your damn book."

"I make a good big sister, but I make an especially good, annoying little sister, huh?"

"No question about it." Daryl grumbled and walked away before the conversation could get anymore embarrassing for him.

"Ha!" he heard Sam squawk.

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Sam accompanied Jo on another trip to the library before dinner, filling a cart up with stuff he deemed worthy of reading, anything that might be able to taught or learned a lesson from - he was an English major after all. He could definitely put together a lesson plan if he tried hard enough.

Through their second round of rifling Sam found _The Wonderful Wizard of Oz_ and _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_, surely those would be entertaining for children, something she could read to Honey.

"I'm sort of disappointed in the lack of Harry Potter books." Jo hummed and pushed the cart from the room once Sam gave him the all clear.

She nodded with a soft chuckle, "Me too." she stepped carefully, covering them from behind while Jo stayed alert at the front.

"Ya know, I don't want to make waves," Jo mumbled, "But since you've been gone, it seems like Daryl and Carol have been getting a little cozy together, if you know what I mean."

"Figured." Sam replied, she wouldn't lie and say she hadn't noticed some things since she'd been back, "So they're like... together now?"

"I have no idea, I'm just going off of speculation. And I sort of feel like an asshole for, ya know, wanting them to stay apart, like... ya know? It's just-, it's was _them_, ya know? Him and her, and they were good together, great even, like-,"

"The Princess and the Goblin."

"What?" Jo nearly shouted.

"Oh, no! Sorry, I was thinking that would've been a great find, in the library. I think Erin would've like that a lot, that book. Sorry." she laughed under her breath, "Yes, I know what you mean though. About her and Daryl. They were right together, even if it was only the end of the world that brought them together, it was right. But he's gotta," she paused, not wanting to say it, not wanting to believe it, or endorse it, "He's gotta move on... We all do."

Jo gave a noise in agreement, though it was obvious he wasn't really agreeing, he just knew he should. The rest of the way back to C Block was quiet, they met two more walkers, but otherwise it was uneventful.

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Sam had _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_ open and rested on her pulled up knees, she was deep within the third adventure with the good Dr. Watson and the brilliantly mad Detective Holmes when Daryl's voice pulled her from the fictional world.

"Hm?" she hummed and dragged her eyes from the page. After dinner she'd offered reading to Erin, but Sophia had taken up the task of reading from _The Wonderful Wizard of Oz_ with the seven year old. Sophia's soft reading had ceased a half an hour ago, just when everyone else had called it a night and turned in. Sam was reading by candle light, half inspired to wait up for Daryl to get back from walking and checking the yard and gate after finding out when he had watch. She hadn't even noticed him sit down beside her on the wall, hadn't noticed Honey clocked out for the night, curled up on the couple of mattresses Daryl had taken from vacant cells. The horse blanket he'd fashioned into a poncho covering her up.

Looking to Daryl she saw he appeared more tired than ever. She almost wanted to offer to take his shift of watch, but he'd never have that, so she just kept quiet and listened this time when he repeated his wondering, "That's a gnarly scar. Where'd you get it?" he was nodding to her arm.

She looked at the knitted together flesh, the thick line of silvery skin, that constant reminder of what had happened, how scared she was, and then the truth. As long as an infection was kept away, or the bleeding was stopped, anything to keep from dying, any bite or scratch from a walker could be survived from. Though it was the areas where the bites occurred that was the problem, they weren't in the best of places to fight off bleeding out... It was a tough business, staying alive and living in this fucked up new world.

"Oh, umm, that..." Sam paused, and almost flinched from the vivid memory of the walker nearly grabbing hold of her, grabbing Sophia, but she ripped her arm away and was left with a not-_too_-deep scratch, but how it had gushed... "The night we got run off the farm. When we found Sophia. A, uhh, a walker... scratched me. Lacey told me to clean it up, wrap it up, and keep it that way, let it heal, fight off any infection, if there was one, and I'd be alright... I guess she was right..." she explained, and then listened to her words again, she surprised herself, realizing she had said Lacey's name so easily, even after the mildly awkward situation that came from Jo almost saying his sister's name during breakfast.

"Walker scratch?" he repeated.

She nodded, "I was terrified, but... I'm totally fine." she shrugged.

"Pretty badass." he stated, and she chuckled quietly. He smirked smally, but then moved away from the wall to crawl onto the mattresses and rearranged Honey to a more accommodating spot so he could fit on the bed too.

"Your candle's gonna go out soon." Daryl noted with a yawn.

She had caught the way his whole being seemed to stutter at the mention of her name, he wasn't over it, as much as he pretended he was... Or maybe he had been over it and Sam's reappearance opened the old wound, poking, prying at it, doing nothing to help heal it over again... She really should tell him what happened to Lacey, she thought, about the last time she saw her. But... she bit her lip, tears stung at her eyes at the old memory. She delved back into 221B Baker Street, if only to distract her for another ten minutes before her candle flickered out and left her in darkness and to her thoughts and memories she didn't want to think about or relive in her dreams...

.

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Sam was adjusting life in the prison. No longer on the move, constantly changing locations. Life among her fellow survivors was something she'd so dearly missed. There wasn't any sort of struggle to get back into each other's good graces either, it was almost as if she were gone for just a day or two. It truly felt like being with family again, more than anything else.

Day after day she did her part in helping with any kind of task. Like moving the bodies, though Lori and Daryl had, on separate occassions, restricted her from that. Lifting, dragging, carrying dead weight was not women's work no matter what anyone said. There were things they could debate but this just wasn't one of them. And Sam was fine with that, but she felt much better when Daryl asked her, or rather **told** her, to come hunting with him. Anything to contribute.

There wasn't much in the way of big game, at least during their first hunt, but there enough that they could have some form of meat with the side dishes created from the kitchen food.

When not busied with chores, Sam found herself in the company of Beth, Sophia, Erin and Honey. Sometimes Carl would join in too, but being surrounded by so many girls, he preferred not being outnumbered. Beth told her about what had happened while she was gone, though most of what she said was just re-told stories Sam had heard from Daryl's point of view. But during Beth's retellings, Sophia and Erin would put in their comments as well. Then when the oldest of the girls wondered how Sam had managed to stay alive for so long on her own, she felt a rush of guilt, and worry. She shrugged after her awkward pause and said, "I wasn't alone the whole time." And they nodded in understanding, in sorrow. But while they were sure she was referring to one woman she was thinking of two others. "And I had Rocket, of course. She kept me in line, kept me out of trouble, alive." she laughed to usher the dark tension away and get them back on track. Girl talk... she hadn't really had girl talk in a while, not since her stay at the orphanage. There were a few girls there she'd become good friends with, and she wondered what ever became of them since... It had been utter chaos then, her small group had been one of the last to leave the home, her friends hadn't been among the group... They were probably long gone. And it was probably for the best.  
She had these girls now. These girls that had definitely toughened up just like she had over the past eight months. These girls that would cover her back in a pinch... Just like she was supposed to have _her_ back... And she had failed... She _let_ them take her away... And now she was... who knew what she was.

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"I don't wanna do target practice." Sam whined, truly whined, like an absolutely dejected child.

"You _will_ do it, and you'll be glad you did." Lori chuckled, hands and eyes busy folding laundry.

"But I'm no good at it, I'll just be wasting ammo." Sam countered with a huff.

"Practice will _make_ you good. And we can afford losing some ammo for you to get an understanding and feel of a gun. I know you like your arrows, but it'll be good for you to have that knowledge, just in case." Lori said, and folded the last article of clothing, setting it on top of the pile beside her on the thin mattress.

"I know," Sam scrambled to stand up from her position slumped against the cell wall, "But the first time I did target practice I hit the target once. Once!" she explained and plopped down on the mattress, Lori chuckled again, and Sam continued, "Why don't I just stick to what I already know I do best...? And I don't wanna... you know... disappoint Rick." she grumbled.

Lori looked at her before she reached a hand over to cover hers, "Hunny, believe me, no one can disappoint him as much as I have..."

Sam flushed in embarrassment.

"The only way he'd be disappointed is if you _didn't_ try. So at least try, huh?" Lori gave her fingers a squeeze and Sam nodded reluctantly.

"Good." Lori smiled and released Sam's hand to rest on top of her distended stomach.

A smile pulled at Sam's lips, but before it could reach its full potential it fell away. And her eyes suddenly started to water, she shook her head slightly, willing the tears away. A chuckle escapsed her throat, in an attempt to cover the sob that wanted to escape instead. "Can I, uh... Can I say something? It's just... It's something I've been trying not to think about because," she let out another watery laugh, "It makes me this way." She wiped at her eyes, though the tears hadn't fallen.

Lori moved the folded laundry that sat between them away and moved closer to the almost-weepy brunette. She brought her arm around the girl, her other hand took hold of the hand that wasn't rubbing at her eyes. Sam leaned into Lori, into her embrace, into her warmth, and it was wonderful. Sure, she'd taken up the same sort of position with Daryl, but with Lori was different. It wasn't hard muscle and a firm grip that was more or less for his own reassurance. Lori was lean, soft, and holding her in a gentle way that told she was there. It reminded her of-

"I wish Lacey was here." the words left her in a soft sob, and the tears fell freely.

Lori's heart squeezed. Lacey had been one of her oldest friends, her best friend she would even say. They were both strong women, but Lacey had a strength in her that Lori was envious of. She was tough, and she could get things done... While Lori just sat back and preferred to let the men do the hard work. Believing in stereotypical gender roles. She wished she was as tough, as strong as Lacey was. But at the same time she favoured Lacey possessing all that strength, all that power, she could handle it far better than Lori ever could. And then she was gone... After all the trust they had in her that she would always come back. She was just gone. Her best friend, someone she would've trusted as a godmother to Carl and the new baby. The new baby, she wished she was here for that too. Someone who had skill and knowledge in human birth rather than livestock birth. Someone who would know not only how to take care of the baby after birth, but also for the mother. Lacey would've made this whole pregnancy situation far less stressful if she were still here... But she wasn't.

Lori's hand moved against Sam's shoulder in a comforting rub, she tried not to cry along with the girl, "Me too." she murmured, "Me too..."

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This was the longest they had managed to stay in one place since the Greene farm. It was wonderful, luxurious, even. Food, shelter, safety. Housekeeping objectives were nearly finished as they reached the end of their first week in what they were starting believe they could call home.

Sam was out assisting Rick, Carol, T and Daryl while at the same time getting a miniature lesson in driving, the basics- just in case. She had a cautious step on the gas and a frantic stomp on the brake (as was expected with a new driver) and that was just with automatic. Teaching her stick would be a different kind of thrill ride T had laughed, and Carol said they'd leave that all to Daryl, and they laughed again.

"Let's get the other car in. Park 'em in the West Entry of the yard. After that we need to load up these corpses so we can burn 'em." Rick said once the SUV was parked against the fence inside the yard.

"It's gonna be a long day." T commented and Sam heaved a weary groan, face tilted skyward and arms like noodles dangling limply at her sides.

Rick chuckled, "Feelin' it after the gun training yesterday?"

"My arms hurt like a bitch." Sam whined and brought a hand up to rub at her bicep.

"Damn it, girl!" Daryl barked, "How many times do I have to tell you to watch your goddamn mouth?"

"Uhh, with you as an example?" Sam nearly failed to contain her grin- nearly, while the other adults let the smirks light up their faces, "Do you seriously expect me to walk around with G rated speech?" Sam snarked, "And given that you used 'damn it' and 'goddamn' in your scolding? Yeeah, I told think any restrictions you dictate are _really_ gonna stick."

The adults and Sam dissolved into laughter again, and Sam let out a squeal when Daryl tried to ruffle her hair, dodging his dirty hand and hiding beside Rick.

"Where's Glenn and Maggie? We could use some help." Carol wondered when the laughter died down, but Sam still kept a distance between her and Daryl, wary, ready to spring away at a moments notice.

"Up in the guard tower." Daryl said.

"The guard tower?" Rick repeated, "They were just up there last night."

And it was all too painfully obvious what the two were up to up there. A blush tinged Sam's cheeks while Daryl called up to the tower, "Glenn! Maggie!"

There was a few moments pause where surely the Korean boy and Southern girl were scrambling to answer the call, to appear decent and innocent. Glenn stepped through the door first, "Hey! What's up guys?" he called back down, shirtless and a comical fake coolness in his voice.

"You coming?" Daryl pronounced the wondering with a half way smothered smirk.

"What?" came Glenn's absolutely startled reply, just as Maggie appeared beside him, hair completely disheveled.

"Said, you comin'? Come on, we could use a hand." His grin broke through, easily heard in his words as he turned away to head back toward the gate.

"Sick." Sam hissed with a sour face, the blush fading from her cheeks as she followed the group.

"You better not know what'm talkin' about." Daryl said.

"I'm 15 years old, _of_ _course_ I know what you're talking about. Do you not recall the conversation we had about the magazine found in the-," Sam's shriek came out muffled when Daryl's filth caked and calloused hand clamped over her mouth, she pried it away after three seconds of shock and struggle, a grim expression in place as she hurriedly wiped at her face with the material of her shirt on her shoulder. The others just grinned at the sibling like interaction between the two, Daryl just smirked in partial triumph.

Sam glared at him for a moment before she spoke again, "I lived in an orphange, in the system, not under a rock. I _went_ to school. "

"Yeah? Then maybe you'd like to have _the_ talk with Carl and Sophia." Rick offered.

Sam's face took on an owlish expression, she practically squeaked, "Uhm, no thank you please."

Chuckles filled the air for a fourth time and the teen smiled, rubbing at her arms again.

"Head back inside, Sam. Check on the girls." Rick gave her shoulder a pat and she smiled gratefully.

"Sweet." she spun on her heel and started for the building but stopped after just a few steps, "Oh, uhh, Rick?" Sam called, an unsureness in her tone that caused each adult to turn quickly. Two sheepish figures were walking along the fence and into the yard toward them.

Rick's smile dropped immediately, the grim Grimes muttered quietly to T and Daryl, "Come with me," while resting his hand on his gun, "Sam, hang back with Carol." he mumbled as the three men passed her. Sam only moved when she felt Carol's hands on her shoulder and arm, urging her backward with her. Her eyes were firmly set on the men though, she was armed only with a knife, but she sure as hell was prepared to use it.

"That's far enough." Rick stated when the prisoners had made to move closer to the group of survivors. Maggie and Glenn emerged from the tower at that moment, the group now effectively surrounding the inmates.

"Please, mister, we know that." Axel said, arms hugging his middle, "We made a deal. But you gotta understand, we can't live in that place another minute, you follow me? All the bodies. People we knew. Blood and brains everywhere. There's ghosts."

"Why don't you move the bodies out?" Sam wondered loud enough for the inmates to hear, everyone's attention drawn to her for a moment. Carol tugged her closer to her.

"Should be burnin' them." T said.

"We tried. We did." Axel shot back.

"Fence is down on the far side of the prison. Every time we drag a body out those things just line up. So we're just dumpin' the bodies and runnin' back inside." Oscar explained.

Axel took a short step forward toward the three men, and no one missed the way Sam broke away from Carol to move closer too, her expression unreadable as she eyed the filthy jump-suited men. Axel looked away from the straight faced, steely eyed teen, back to Rick, "Look we had nothin' to do with Tomas and Andrew. Nothin'! You tryin' to prove a point? You proved it, bro. We'll do what ever it takes to be part of your group. Just please, please- Don't make us live in that place."

"Our deal is nonnegotiable. You either live in your cell block or you leave." Rick stated, not at all swayed by Axel's pleas.

"I told you this was a waste of time." Oscar rasped, "They ain't no different than the pricks who shot up our boys. You know how many friends corpses we had to drag out this week? Just threw them out like-,"

Sam's brows quirked in the middle. Her mind, of its own volition, pulled up images of the graves on Greene Farm. The small bodies, made in certainty they wouldn't rise again, wrapped up and buried, their gravemarkers beside Lacey and Jo's brothers, Rob and Ben. She shook her head slightly to clear her head of the images and listen as Oscar continued, "These were good guys. Good guys that had our backs against the really bad dudes in the joint. Like Tomas and Andrew. Now, we've all made mistakes to get in here, chief. And I'm not gonna pretend to be a saint. But believe me- we paid our due. Enough that we would rather hit that road than to go back into that shit hole."

Rick paused for a brief moment before he glanced behind him to Daryl, Daryl who didn't hesitate to shake his head...

Maggie kept an arm hooked with Sam's while Daryl locked up Axel and Oscar in the dog run. It was a group discussion, should they or shouldn't they, and it seemed familiar. Though it was plainly obvious where Rick stood, T-Dog had voiced his objections.

"Are you serious? You want them livin' in the cell next to us? You want us to go back to sleepin' with one eye open?" Rick asked hushedly as Daryl walked back to the group.

"I never stopped." T shrugged, "Bring 'em into the fold. We send them off packing we might as well execute them ourselves."

"They don't seem _so_ bad." Sam added. All eyes flashed to the youngest. Rick and Daryl's stares burned hotter than the rest though, Sam almost wanted to shrink away. Just as she was going to protest and demand, 'What?', Rick sighed.

"Sam, go back to the block."

The girl stepped away from Maggie, unhooking her arm from hers as her face contorted into confusion and outrage, "Woah! Don't I get a-,"

Daryl cut her off, saying, "Sam. Just go."

Sam closed her mouth, breathing out a sigh through her nose and walked off toward the building again, this time undeterred by anything, or anyone.

.

Sam safely made her way back to the block, Rocket acknowledging her as she entered the cell Amy, Erin and Honey were in. She plucked Erin from the bunk and plopped back in place with the girl in her lap, "How's Hershel?" Sam wondered lowly to Amy.

"He's getting restless," Amy murmured back, "Sophia, Beth and Jo went to the infirmary again to find some crutches. Carl's working on something, like a... prosthetic leg."

"And that answers all my other questions." Sam nodded and finally indulged Honey who started making grabby hands at her the moment she entered the cell.

"Whaaat...?" Sam groaned fakely and nudged Erin to slip off her lap so she could stand up and take the baby from Amy's arms, "What's your deal, huh? What..." Sam mumbled to the girl who whined at the sight of Sam's hair tamed into the form a braid.

"So are you on your company required break?" Amy wondered when Sam gave in to Honey's whimpers and took the hair tie from the end of her hair and let the tiny blonde have it. Honey's fingers immediately went at piecing the braid apart and then running through and through and through. It had to be therapeutic or something, at least that's what they had assumed.

"My arms are killing me so Rick let me go." Sam said with a nod, a shrug in her shoulders as she adjusted Honey against her hip, "And then the prisoners made their appearance again and now a discussion is happening about stuff and I said something and was essentially sent to my room." she shrugged again and Amy stifled a laugh before she realized what the teen had said.

"The prisoners?"

"They want to be included in our group."

Amy pulled a face that displayed something of worry and sadness, but mostly fear.

"Pretty sure Rick's gonna send them packing, they don't want to be in the cell block they were given anymore because of all their, uh, friends... It's their bodies they're dragging out... And I guess there's a part of the fence over there that's down, so walkers..." she sighed, "Something else we'll have to take care of." she rubbed a hand over her forehead.

"We can worry about that later though." she grumbled when she took her hand away and looked to Honey when the girl patted Sam's cheek. She grinned at her, "What do you say, baby girl. Wanna try walking today?"

The other girls in the cell laughed when the youngest relinquished her reassuring touch from Sam like she was burned, close to squirming away as she grunted out a, "No."

Sam's brow rose as her grin grew, "No?"

"No, Smemee." Honey reiterated with such conviction that Sam had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. A being a little older than one year old shouldn't be so comically serious. As the past week progressed Honey heard the group call Sam many things; Sam, Sis, sweetie, girl, chick, kid, but it was Jo's nickname of Sammy that she seemed to enjoy the most. Though all the times she would try to say it she just couldn't seem to get her tongue to mimic correctly. 'Smemee' was her closest attempt, and apparently it was satisfactory enough to her ears. But with that name came another name from the others. From Smemee came 'Mimi', that's what it sounded like when Honey said it- with a 'S' in front, and Sam wasn't exactly keen on that name. It would make for a good code name, she'd said, but other than that, no thanks.

Erin and Amy were hiding their laughter, Honey's face was stony, something Sam was sure she'd learned from her father.

"No? You don't wanna try at all?" Sam tried.

Honey shook her head, a pout taking over her lips.

"Come on." Sam smiled, popping the girl up in her arms in a hope to get a rise out of her, shake the sullen features from her face, "It'll be fun. Try for me, huh?"

"Nnno." Honey extended the word, bottom lip sticking out further. Sam snorted slightly and exited the cell as she cooed an 'awww' and saw Carl was perched on the stairs, smirking their way. "Let's see..." Sam hummed under her breath.

"Try for your daddy?" Sam offered.

Honey looked ready to scream 'Nooo!', the way her little chest inhaled a deep breath, but she then paused. Sam gasped, her grin and laughter slipping into her words, "Got you thinkin' there, didn't I?" Sam took a seat on a step beside Carl and put Honey in her lap, the girl still in deep thought as to whether she should try walking for her father or not... Her infant mind weighing the pros and cons, it appeared. It was hysterical.

"Woah, what did you do to her? System failure?" Jo asked with a laugh when he, Beth, Sophia and Lori entered the cell block, Beth with crutches in hand.

"I think so." Sam chuckled. Carl left the stairs, abandoning his project when Lori and Beth entered the cell she shared with her injured father. Amy and Erin left their cell to stand by and out of the way with Jo as Hershel sat up without much struggle and swung his legs over the bunk side.

"Just take your time." Lori warned.

Beth put her hands out, unsure of what to do really, "Daddy, don't push yourself."

Hershel huffed, taking hold of the crutches, "What else am I goin' to do?" he heaved himself up from the bunk, "Can't stand lookin' up at the bottom of that bunk any longer." On one leg he struggled to find his balance. Lori and Beth had hands out to catch him, as if a stick thin teenager and a pregnant woman could do anything to halt a full grown man of Hershel's weight and height descent to the floor. But he caught himself before he could tip over.

He adjusted the crutches on the floor, getting a feel for them and taking two steps forward in the cell, Beth and Lori surrounding him, "You know... I think I'm pretty steady." he said.

"That's a good start. Wanna take a rest?" Lori smiled.

"Rest? Let's go for a little stroll." Hershel grinned and stepped out of the cell, he smiled at Jo who gave him an encouraging nod. He leveled his gaze on the three girls on the stairs, "C'mon, Honey. You and I will learn to walk together. How's that sound?"

"If not for your Daddy or Mimi at least do it for Hershel, Hon." Amy smirked.

Sam growled with a fake glare but when Honey gave a nod they were starting right there. While Hershel took careful slow steps out of the cell block and toward the adjoining common area, Sophia and Sam created a small bracket of space for Honey to walk between them. Sophia stood three feet away, ready to catch Honey if she fell forward, Sam with the same position, from behind. Supportive words were all around Honey as she crumbled again and again. Tears were making her little brown eyes glossy, cheeks reddening and a pout on her mouth again as she fell for the sixth time and Hershel, Beth, Carl and Lori were already close to exiting the cell block entirely.

Sophia bit her lip, noticing the impending tears of despair, then said, "Why don't we go outside? More room to try."

Sam nodded, "Good idea." and she scooped up the little girl. The girls along with Jo followed after first group, but not before Sam sprinted up the steps and grabbed her bow and arrows. Jo called for Rocket and they all made their way out of the cell block. Stepping out into the sunshine, into the yard, the asphalt and sparse areas of greenery within it.

"Cleared all those bodies out. This is startin' to look like a place we could really live in." Hershel said, his pace picked up once out in the open.

"Hey, you watch your step. The last thing we need is you falling." Lori scolded gently.

Jo had his hands in his pockets, Amy holding onto his arm as they took in the semi-pleasant view as well. Without the constant reminder of death it did seem a little, dare they say, nice. Erin fled to a cemented, overgrown, planter, calling after Sophia to help her find bugs, or pick flowers, whichever they could find first. Rocket trailed after the seven-year-old, with a soft, playful bark, diving into the tall grass, rolling around in it, causing Erin to burst into a fit of laughter. Sam nodded for Sophia to go on and the younger girl ran off. "Okay," Sam breathed and eased Honey down from her arms, tiny socked feet touching to the ground, "Let's try this." she took hold of both Honey's hands in hers, widening her stance around Honey, hunched over. "Alright, baby girl. One foot in front of the other."

With a lot of help from Sam Honey's jelly like steps steadily became more and more solid and sure, knees giving out only a few times, but every time Sam was there to keep her upright. Encouragements coming from above her, Honey was focused on her feet, sort of stunned, but then a grin broke across her mouth and she let out a high pitched giggle.

"Ready to race Hershel?" Carl asked.

"Gimme another day. I'll take ya home." Hershel responded with a smirk.

"Honey might take you up on that offer, Carl." Jo laughed and pointed to the girl who was practically leading Sam now.

.

"Looky here." Daryl nodded toward the group contained within the yard, Hershel walking without a stutter in his step.

Glenn and Rick laughed quietly under their breath. Then Glenn pointed through the chain links, "Check that out, man."

They all looked to where Glenn indicated and Daryl felt a ridiculous flutter in his stomach. Sam released Honey's hands from hers and the little girl kept walking on her own, arms out and on shaky legs. She managed seven steps all on her own before she stopped and just stood with the brightest smile on her face. The most beautiful smile Daryl had ever seen, if he was honest with himself, and allowed himself to be that cheesy, nothing he'd ever admit aloud, but... damn, he was proud of his baby girl in all her triumph.

But like clockwork. Right on time, the bad came to sweep all the good away. The three saw the walkers ambling toward the group before they did. The goofy flip in Daryl's stomach dropped and terror took its place.

.

Carl heard the growls first, quick on his draw he took the first shot taking down the first of many- "Walkers!"

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" Sam snatched Honey up from the ground and deposited her into Beth's arms, her and Amy's frantic calls for Sophia and Erin blended together. "Take her and go! Take them and go! Move! Now!" Sam shouted as she took her bow into her grip and drew and released three arrows in quick succession. "Go!" she called to Amy who pulled out her own pistol and was ushering them toward the closer entrance into the prison that was gated off. The gating around them would be protection enough while the more abled took care of the walkers flooding the yard.

"Rocket, go!" Sam ordered the dog to follow the group, then she started stepping backwards, there were so many so suddenly, how-?

Climbing was one of her strong suits, so she didn't waste any time clambering to higher ground, how ever she could manage it. She took a perch on the cement planter Sophia, Erin and Rocket had been occupied at moments ago. T, Carol and Maggie who had been among the cars sprinted into the yard, weapons drawn. Carl and Sam stood higher than the rest, Sam was losing arrows quickly, down to just five in her crummy quiver. She'd left her knife in the cell block, she cursed under her breath.

"Sam!" Maggie was calling her, but she was too busy taking in account of how many walkers were in the yard and still coming in, wondering if she was quick enough -if she could pull a couple arrows from skulls and keep going or if-

Carl and Maggie were screaming for her, she groaned and hopped off the planter, swerving through and dipping down to downed corpses to snatch a few arrows back and ran to where they were within the gated entrance area to C Block. "Sammy." Lori breathed when they were all behind the closed door, within the darker, colder confines of their cell block, safe. "Are you alright?"

"Fine. I'm fine." Sam assured her as they all headed for the cells. Safe. Or so they thought. Maggie spun on her heel and urged them away. They were forced to delve into the deeper and even darker depths of the prison. And as expected when the bad swept away all the good, it brought badder and worse along with it. Lori clutched at her stomach, after many twists and turns, all their failed attempts at fleeing to somewhere where they could hole up until all this shit was sorted out, she uttered the unbelievable, "I think the baby's coming."

Maggie supported Lori while Carl and Sam kept them covered from the front and back. Carl led them into the boiler room, finally some sort of solace. But then-

"You've got to be kidding me." Sam breathed when the sound of alarms echoed throughout the prison. Dinner bell? Basically? Lori was focused on not crumbling to the floor, steadying her breathing, trying to remain calm in a time like this.

"What are those alarms?"

"Don't worry about it. Lori, let's lay you down." Maggie insisted.

"No. The baby's coming." Lori shook her head, taking carefully measured breaths. Sam's eyes widened, speechless, she watched it all play out in front of her.

"We have to get back to our cell block and have Hershel-," Carl was talking quickly, gesturing to the door, looking to his mother, to Maggie, to Sam, looking for support, but Maggie just gave a short shake of her head.

"No. We can't risk getting caught out there. You're gonna give birth to this baby here."

"Great." Lori mumbled, but then suddenly those careful breaths turned frantic, like she was hyperventilating.

"What's she doing? Can't she breathe?!" Carl was terrified, as he should be, seeing his mother like this. Sam put her hand on his shoulder, an unconscious move to try to and calm him down, give him an anchor, though she was positive she'd lapsed into a state of debilitating shock, at least mentally.

"She's fine. Come on, let's get your pants off." Maggie eased Lori onto the floor after unbuttoning her jeans and tugging them down, "I'm gonna need help delivering your little brother or sister, you up for it?" Maggie directed to Carl, noting how very pale and quiet Sam had gone, but she couldn't take care of that just yet.

Carl nodded, his own hand landing on top of Sam's.

"Let's see if your dialated." Maggie spoke the jargin and went through the motions after as if she wasn't completely and horribly scared.

"You know how?" Carl asked, his fingers encircling Sam's.

"Dad taught me, but trust me this is my first time." she peeked down between Lori's legs, a few moments of silence aside from Lori's heavy, slow breathing again. "...I can't tell." Maggie finally said.

"I gotta push. I gotta push. I gotta..." Lori sputtered and moved to stand up. Maggie helped her and she got a grip on some chains and took a couple breaths before she started to push. Maggie coached her through the next couple of pushes, but then let out a small gasp before urging, "Lori, stop pushing! Something's wrong!"

Blood coated Maggie's hand, Lori's scream echoed loudly then faded off. Her knees gave out and that was enough to snap Sam out of her shocked daze. She, Carl and Maggie caught and eased Lori back to the floor. Carl and Sam were on either side of the pregnant woman, Maggie was by her bent legs.

"Mom, look at me. Keep your eyes open." Lori's dizzy gaze settled on Carl, eyes hooded, she tried to keep her vision locked on her son.

Maggie's tone was far less sure than before, "We gotta get you back to Dad."

"I'm not gonna make it." Lori's voice was thick with exhaustion.

"But Lori with all this blood- I don't even think you're fully dialated yet. No amount of pushin' is gonna help." Maggie's bloodied hands dropped onto Lori's knees, there was a shake in her voice, her eyes desperate for Lori to understand, this was completely out of her hands.

"I know what it means. And I'm not losing my baby. You gotta cut me open." Lori said.

That's what finally caused Sam's vocal chords to squeak into existence again, "No, no, no, no, Lori. Lori, wait! J-Just wait a second. Just one second, let's think. We- we- we can, we can carry you. We can carry you out of here, a-a-and then-,"

Lori cut off Sam's distraught speech with her quiet, ragged voice, and a hand on her arm, "Sam, sweetie... It has to be like this."

"No, no, no, no, pl...please... You can't-," Sam's throat closing up made it difficult for her to speak, but she had so much to say, so much to explain. Lori couldn't make this decision, she couldn't just- just _leave_. She couldn't- she had to- she-

"Yes, I can... I have to. Sam, listen. Lacey would want you to be strong, wouldn't she? Be strong for her, and be strong for me." Lori said with pleading eyes. Sam breathed in and let out a heavily, shaky with a repressed sob, sigh but nodded. Lori gave her a nod and a small smile before closing her eyes and murmuring. "Maggie..."

"I can't."

"You have no choice." Lori sighed.

"I'll go for-," Carl went to stand, but his motion and words were cut off sharply by both Maggie and Lori's shouts of 'No!'

Sam managed to get one foot under her while she mumbled, "It's okay, I can go instead-," but was given the same treatment, a sharp, loud 'No!'. Carl and Sam stayed put, on either side of Lori.

"Look, Carol's the one that practiced that. Dad only taught me the steps-,"

"Please."

"I have no anesthetic. No equipment."

"Carl has a knife."

Tears were clouding the younger three's vision.

Maggie shook her head, "You won't survive."

"The baby has to survive. Please. My baby. For all of us. Please! Maggie, please!" Lori, with what strength she had, begged loudly.

But Maggie just shook her head.

"Please." Lori begged again, quieter, and pulled her shirt up a couple inches, "D'you see my old C-section scar?"

Maggie sighed through the tears she hadn't let fall, "I can't."

"You can. You have to." Lori sighed again and turned to look to her son, teary eyed and terrified, "Carl, baby. I don't want you to be scared, okay? This is what I want. This is right. Now you, you take care of your daddy for me, alright? Your little brother or sister, you-,"

"You don't have to do this." he said, tears in voice.

"You're gonna be fine." Lori smiled, "You are gonna beat this world, I know you will. You are smart, and you are strong, and you are so brave. And I love you."

"I love you too." Carl sobbed quietly, looking down at his mother, tears threatening to spill over.

"You gotta do what's right, baby. You promise me you'll always do what's right. It's so easy to do the wrong thing in this world, so... So if it feels wrong don't do it. Alright? If it feels easy don't do it. Don't let the world spoil you. You're so good." she wiped the tears from his cheeks, her voice breaking, throat closing around a sob, "My sweet boy. The best thing I ever did. I love you. I love you, my sweet, sweet boy. I love you." she pulled him into an embrace, both of them crying. Maggie and Sam sat back, their own tears falling freely now.

"Okay. Okay now. Okay..." Lori let Carl up, brushing away the wetness from her face, "Maggie when this is over you have to do it! It can't be Rick!" her tone had risen when Maggie began to refuse again. She took a deep breath and let it out slow, "Alright... It's alright..."

Sam took hold of Lori's hand while Carl passed his knife to Maggie. Carl took Lori's other hand and with another calming breath she whispered to the air, "Goodnight, love."

"I'm sorry." Maggie mumbled and then sliced through the old scar and the blood flowed immediately, and Lori's screams sounded and then stopped. Carl and Sam whimpered and cried as Lori's eyes fell closed and her grip slackened. Sam let go of her hand, crying quietly while Maggie gave orders. Distantly she could hear Maggie say, "If I cut too deep I'll hurt the baby... I see it. I see the uterus... I can't tell if this is an arm or a leg... Okay. I'm gonna pull the baby out. Sam..."

Sam looked up at the sound of her name being said and saw the tiniest being caked in gore and what ever else in Maggie's hands. But it didn't make a sound, it was still, quiet. She watched her tap and rub at the baby's chest and back. Sam nearly dissolved into tears again but then- A whine, a cough and then an actual cry. Alive. The baby was alive. Sam looked from the baby to Carl, who was smiling at his new sibling as he took his flannel off and gave it to Maggie. She wrapped up the fretting infant and stood up.

"We have to go."

Sam's smile faded, she glanced from Maggie and the baby to Lori... Lori... She was gone. She didn't make it.

"We can't just leave her. She'll turn... No..." Carl said.

"Carl." Maggie started and glanced to the door.

Carl shook his head, a frown on his face again, "She's my mom."

He glanced at Sam, over his mother's body, and she gave him a nod. She stood and carefully walked around Lori, touching his shoulder briefly before taking up her bow again and passing Maggie toward the door.

Sam peeked out, opening the door just an inch. She could see shuffling bodies, quiet groans and rasping breathing. "I'll-" Sam breathed, she swallowed thickly, "I'll need back u-," She and Maggie jumped at the sound of the gunshot. They exchanged a look, fighting the urge to burst at that very moment, Carl approached a few moments later. Straight faced, misty eyed.

He gave Sam a nod without connecting gazes. Just as they had covered Lori and Maggie on the way into the boiler room, they covered Maggie and the baby on their way out. They killed their way out of the cell block, stepped over corpses and fighting back tears until the finally reached the door that would lead them into daylight again...

.

"Hershel!" Rick called as he, Glenn, Jo, Daryl and the inmates ran back into the yard, through the gate the walkers had come through, the gate whose chain had been chopped. Chopped by Andrew who had also set off the alarms, orchestrating all this shit in an attempt to get the prison back, back in the prisoners control. He was dead now, shot in the head with Rick's gun by Oscar. The deed essentially demonstrated that the prisoners could be trusted.

"You didn't find them." Hershel said, he and Beth were still at the top of the steps while Amy and the rest of the girls had come down onto the asphalt again.

"We thought maybe they came back out here." Glenn breathed.

Hershel and Amy shook their heads.

"Damn it, Sammy." Jo sighed, running a hand through his curls. Rocket bumped her nose against his thigh, but he ignored it.

"What about T, Carol?" Hershel asked.

"They didn't make it." Daryl replied in a gravelly tone and Rick rounded on him.

"That doesn't mean the others didn't. We're goin' back. Daryl, Glenn, you come with me. Jo, you tak-,"

.

Sam pushed the gate open with a scrap and creak, the baby emitted little gurgles and cooes, it was those noises that snapped everyone's gaze to them. Everyone in the yard grew quiet. Rick was shocked still for a moment, but then he approached with slow steps, dropping his axe as he did.

Maggie was still fighting back tears, Sam was sniffling and trying not to whimper as they stepped into the yard, she made her way to Daryl.

"Where- Wh-Where is she? Where is she?" Rick stammered, and Sam choked on a sob as she reached Daryl. Maggie grabbed for Rick, muttering out a plea of 'No', careful of the infant in her arms as he tried to walk past her toward C Block, in search of his wife, in search of Lori. And it clicked. It hit him in the gut. He saw the way Maggie was crying, saw the way Sam's face was blotchy, the way she clung onto Daryl. Then he saw his son's face. Tear tracks through the grime, dirt and blood, the stoic expression on his face, eyes cast down. Rick collapsed onto the ground with howling, heart wrenched sobs.

Glenn's arms circled around Maggie, wary of the bundle. Sam sniffed and wiped her eyes before she whispered loud enough for Daryl to hear, looking up at him, "I have to tell you something... It's about Lacey..."

He'd been waiting and waiting, patiently, and now, of all times, he was finally going to hear what he'd been dreading and anxious to hear.

Rick's sobs faded, but the quiet air was quickly filled by the wailings of the baby in Maggie's arms. She passed the baby off to Carl and Sam's attention fell away from Daryl, she wiped at her face with the back of her hand, "Hungry. She's gotta be hungry."

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Note: Well there's that... Did anyone see the season finale of American Horror Story: Asylum? What the FUCK. Am I right?

Shout out to XM beta'ing as well as being my cheerleader along with Rexi.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of The Walking Dead's ideas or characters.


	8. Chapter 8

Note: Okay, I will apologize for the last chapter being so... what it was. BUT IT HAD TO HAPPEN! And at least it was only Lori, right? (And T-Dog, whoops) Though, I will admit that Lori totally redeemed herself, at least in my book, during her last moments (I think her death in the show was far better and more dramatic than in the comics. MY EMOTIONSSS!) and I cried like a total baby. And then Carl! And then RICK! Dear GOD! Mr. Lincoln, sir, you deserve ALL THE AWARDS. Anyway. The reviews are appreciated, as always. And in reply to the guest review from Maddy- Same, gurl. Same... ;)

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"What's with the face?" Michonne nodded to Lacey. When she went to answer the door after two abrupt knocks, she hadn't expected opening the door would reveal the blonde with such a sourface. Lacey stepped inside the room Michonne and Andrea were provided and took a seat on the semi cluttered bed, twisted up expression still in place.

"I'm pretty sure I had a sex dream about Merle."

The statement was all the explanation needed. Michonne kept her face stony, though she really did want to allow herself a laugh because the girl's face and tone were priceless, and she nearly cracked when Lacey continued in an almost far away voice, eyes widening, "I knew this day would come... It was only a matter of time."

A few moments later her horrified visage was wiped clean and replaced with a small smirk and a raised brow, an expression that was waiting for vindication, "So," she started slowly, picking at a thread on the blanket beneath her, "I couldn't help but notice you're still here..."

"I know," Michonne grumbled and crossed her arms, leaning against the door, "We're supposed to leave today..."

"Well good, and on the bright side," the blonde stood up quickly, bouncing herself off the bed, "At least there isn't a rumor attached to you sweeping through town about going crazy from ingesting walker brains. _Children can be so cruel_... Though," she paused and reached for the door knob as she looked at her friend, the woman stepped away from barring Lacey's exit, "Since you're still here, and if you wanted some more material proof that the Governor isn't the-friendly-neighbor-next-door, but rather the-psycho-next-door that'll lend you a cup of sugar and then chop your head off, I'd tell you to check out the new toys..." she said in a grave tone, but then shrugged half a second later, pulling open the door, "Just, ya know, if you wanted that extra evidence."

She turned back to Michonne before she took one step out, one finger extended and pointing lazily, "Oh, and don't let him use that charming sweet talk on you. I mean, I know you're strong and you won't fall for it, but Andrea..." she trailed off, "Now, I've got a hot date with my physician. Hopefully I won't see you later at the," she rolled her eyes with groan, "_thing_." then with a wink Lacey left as quickly as she had arrived.

Michonne huffed a chuckle. She didn't doubt Lacey, but checking out the trucks and tanks wasn't a bad idea...

To anyone else it appeared as a casual stroll, just taking a gander at the new vehicles Woodbury had come in to. But to a keen eye like the Governor's- he saw Lacey leave Andrea and Michonne's place, then just a couple minutes later Michonne left, no doubt in his mind under Lacey's direction. The little bitch wasn't going to ruin him, he knew that, but this new girl, she was different, similar to Lacey- a warrior- but he doubted she'd be just as easy to break. He startled her, offhand conversation started, acting like he had nothing to hide. Everything was by chance.

"Too bad what happened to Welles." Michonne said, taking careful note of any twitch in his face, in his limbs, any uncomfortable shift. It had once been her job to read people, to talk the truth out of the them. She still knew how to do it. Even if she was running on survival mode all the time now, she still remembered her old skills.

"It is. Dr. Stevens couldn't revive him. Merle put a bullet in his brain." The Governor said, there had been a stutter, not in his words, but in his face, a barely registered hitch in his breath.

"No funeral." she noted.

The Governor shook his head, "We cremated him. Quietly. These people have been through so much. I figured, thank god at least no one knew him."

Michonne briefly let the corners of her mouth upturn as she looked to the ground, but then took a couple steps toward the man, eyes still searching. Though she knew for sure Lacey was right, there might have been partial truth in his words. But it _was_ a lie, undoubtedly. "Thank god."

.

Concealed by shrubbery and plant life beside a building Merle met Andrea like she'd asked. She'd handed over a map, and pointed out the location of the Greene Farm, the place she was sure where the rest of the group was. After all this time the walkers probably moved on, those few stragglers that didn't could be taken care of, easy, and they could have taken up residence there again. Most likely. It was there she was sure Merle could find Daryl.

Then, slightly off topic, he wondered why they hadn't hooked up, to which Andrea's response came in the form of exact words from conversations past, thanks to her keen memory. He smirked, and commented that they were, in a way, the same, left by the same people and saved by another. Merle started to walk away, and she was going to let him go, but then the question, the conflict in her head, burst from her mouth. Merle had to have a good idea, a good opinion, being one of the few living in Woodbury the longest, probably. Was the Governor a good man?

He stopped and turned, though he'd only managed to walk a few feet from her he still spoke quietly, after a moment of deliberate thought, "Lemme put it this way, I wasn't in the best of shape when he found me. He should've just keep on goin'. Yeah... He's a good man."

Andrea scoffed, "He saved Lacey too, but she doesn't seem to agree. She's bent on this idea that he's some kind of movie villain, like all he's missing is a cat to stroke in his lap and a filthy, maniacal laugh."

Merle almost chuckled. That seemed exactly like something Lacey would say. But beyond her humor, her constantly cracking jokes, he knew it was her veil, a way to keep the madness contained. "Girly ain't all that right in the head. Not anymore... s'why I gotta look after her."

"Why _do_ you take care of her? You don't really seem the caregiving type. No offense."

Merle just chuckled, "I know, I really ain't the type, you're right. But if you'd'a seen the way she was-," he shook his head, _that_ expression on her face all those months ago but it was still fresh in his mind, that expression that told him that this wasn't the same girl after all.

"The first time we met we had our... tussle. Priorities and rules were set. She was the goddamn warrior princess of the camp that beat my stupid ass up good. But even after I threatened to kill her kid she tried to be friendly to me, she didn't hate me like the rest of y'all did. I know the feelin', bein' excluded, people bein' scared of ya. She was nice to me then, so I'm nice to her now. Returnin' the favor you could say. She ain't as tough anymore, she can't protect anyone anymore, can't even protect herself. She needs someone to watch over her. And that skinny, bearded, goofy talkin' fella, ya know the one I mean. He's her ex-fiance. Somethin' ain't right with him, I know it. He wanted to take care of her, but you should'a seen the way she freaked, an' the kid, he-," he paused and shook his head again, "She's my kin- she wears a ring my brother gave her- she's the closest thing I got left of family."

"I guess that explains why you haven't jumped into her pants."

"I may be born and raised Southern, but I ain't from kissin'-cousins territory, alright, Blondie?"

She raised her hands in a motion of surrender, keeping her smile to just a smirk.

Merle shrugged, easing into a slow step backward, "'Sides, I got too much respect for the girly, no matter how hot she is. I couldn't take advantage of her like that. She ain't made of diamonds no more, she's fragile." and then he turned, exited the little alley way, rounded the corner and was gone from sight. Leaving Andrea to her thoughts...

.

The front door opened and closed, Lacey had only flinched when it opened, but otherwise stayed completely still as loud stomps became louder and louder as they came to the kitchen where she was. Seated, shotglass-ashtray in front of her on the table, along with a glass of water, and a cigarette snug between her middle and forefinger. Merle appeared a moment later, falling into his normal seat across from her, something folded up in his hands that he immediately started to unfold before he started speaking.

"Lacey, listen I-," Merle cut himself off abruptly when he looked up at her and caught the glare in her eye, "Alright. **Why** the hell do you still have that look on your face, since you woke up you've been side eyein' me like that. What the hell did I do _now_?"

She stared at him through her squinted gaze for a few moments longer, tapping the ash into the shotglass, narrowing her eyes a little more before she finally said, "I don't appreciate you insinuating yourself into my dreams that ultimately result in compromising positions and activities that I may or may not have enjoyed."

For a beat Merle didn't say anything, his stare and overall expression a blank slate, but then it seemed to click and a rotten grin took over his mouth, "Ohh! You're pissed off that I rocked your world in your dreams, huh?" He snorted and put his arms away from the table, putting himself in a pose of offering, "If you're ever curious about age and experience-,"

"Uh! No!" Lacey quickly responded, recalling, '_Merle got the Clap on occasion._', "No, that's alright. I'm all set."

Merle's arms dropped to his sides, "Oh really? You were singin' a different song durin' winter when you was curlin' up with me every night."

"For warmth! And probably human contact in general, but I mean! I don't _hate_ touching you, or you touching me, uh-, It's-, uhmmm-, I-," she sighed, "I'm just digging myself a deeper hole, aren't I?"

Merle just smirked, leaning back in his chair, "You want me. It was only a matter of time before curiosity got the better of ya and you wondered what a **real** Dixon man fucked like." he stretched his arms out again and placed his hand and apparatus behind his head. Completely smug.

"Oh, my god." Lacey put a hand over her eyes for a few moments, she took a long puff from her cig, "You were going to say something. Before. When you came in here-," she gestured at the thing that was half way unfolded on the table in front of Merle.

"Oh, right." he sat up straight again and unfolded it the rest of the way, revealing a map. Lacey stiffened, only slightly, upon recognizing the map that had been in her bag, the map that Sam had navigated with when they went back to search for Andrea, and before that it had been the map that was in Dale's RV, the one that Glenn _tried_ to play navigator with. She inhaled at the stick hurriedly, deeply, while Merle used a finger to search for something -some place- on it, smoothing out the creases as he did so. "It's about Daryl. Blondie gave me this map." he grumbled, eyes and finger still searching.

Lacey just hummed in understanding. Hoping if she willed it hard enough the cigarette would literally let her disappear in a puff of smoke because _what the hell_ had Andrea said? _Why_ had she given him this map? And why did he seem so excited, but at the same time... not?

Merle made a sound of triumph and it caused Lacey to jump, and realize she was a pulling at the filter now. Damn. Her will wasn't as strong as she had hoped.

"This," he said, his finger pressed into a spot on the map, "This place. Is this where y'all were at and a horde of them biters ran ya out?"

She put the filter into the shotglass and put her hands into her lap before she leaned over the table. Merle turned the map around to face her, he indicated the area again before he took his finger away. The place he pointed out was a few miles away from the graveyard-pile-up highway... It probably was where the Greene Farm was but- "You're asking the wrong person, dude."

Merle huffed a sigh and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Hey! Hey, now! C'mon, look. You know I have the shittiest sense of direction. I have no idea, but that's probably where the farm is. If Andrea said that's where it was, she's most likely a better judge, so yeah. It's probably there." she said with a shrug of one shoulder and leaned away from the map, settled back comfortably into her seat again.

"I'm gonna ask the Governor to let me take a team to go there." Merle said, after he'd taken his hand away and saw and heard the sincerity and apology in the blonde girl's tone. "I'm gonna find Daryl." he said. But he didn't smile as he said it. He didn't frown either. It was strange. And it wasn't like she thought once he found his brother he'd kill him, but... She did fear for the other survivors. Specifically T-Dog and Rick. She didn't know where they were, or if they were still alive, but hell, they _could_ be back at the farm. Though she doubted it. Those walkers, even if some had wandered off, they lingered, and lingered, the bulk of them had probably never left after they'd taken a sizable, but not nearly big enough, chunk out of the herd.

And knowing what kind of orders the Governor executed she sure as fuck wasn't going to send his little rag-tag army toward them, toward her family.

She nodded, "Okay." she paused, "You really think he'll let you go?"

"I'm about to find out." he folded up the map with haste and stood up, "I just wanted to tell you first. See if you knew anythin' Blondie didn't." his gaze sharpened.

And Lacey fought all knee-jerk reactions in her body that would let her fib be known. She shook her head, "No. They're probably there. Or a neighboring farm..."

Then Merle smiled, slightly, an expression finally lighting up his face after the last couple minutes of simple blank... somewhat unnerving, troublingly blank... "So long as I got your vote of confidence." he headed out of the kitchen, to the front door, and she deflated quietly. Her whole body felt like jelly and her heart beat a little slower.

"And get dressed already! Can't join the party in your damn p.j.'s!" Merle called. Lacey thumped her head down onto the table and groaned into it just as the door shut with a house rattling thud.

.

Merle found the Governor keeping watch on one of the walls while also keeping himself entertained. Hitting golfballs beyond the perimeter, crashing through old car windshields, bouncing off trees, and if he was lucky, soaring through the air to hit a walker in the skull with a resounding plunk causing the monster to stagger and groan and struggle to gain its balance back.

The one handed man told the leader of Woodbury all what Andrea said and what she had given him. But the Governor figured it was a pointless act to try and find Daryl, the one who had married the Loon of Woodbury. Merle was the best of trackers, but even then, what if men got hurt on the mission, like the few times before. The risk was too great, and he needed Merle in the town with him. But the idea of finding his brother again was just as great as the risk, he would do anything and everything. There was also the inkling that Lacey reuniting with her husband might shake some things back into place, get her into the right of mind again, maybe. That was a plus (depending on who was asked).

The conversation ended with the Governor promising he'd go with Merle in search of this farm where Daryl (and most likely the rest of the survivors) was himself if Merle brought more concrete evidence to the table.

.

"Absolutely not."

"...What?" Andrea almost stumbled, physically and with her words. She had paid a visit to the Governor's place in hopes of convincing him to let Lacey leave Woodbury with her and Michonne, even if Lacey couldn't be convinced herself, having the option there might bring some clarity to her mind.

"We just don't think it would be right. Unloading such a heavy burden on you like that. She's a handful, that Lacey. We just think she'd be better off here." the Governor said with certainty.

"We." she repeated, "Have you been discussing this already? Before I got here or something?"

"Well, when you explained that you knew Lacey, Merle and Grady and I had a talk, we figured the idea, er... request might crop up eventually. And we think she should stay here. Among people, among regularity she's grown used to. If we toss her out on the road with you two who knows the repercussions that might present themselves to you. I did tell you about her jumping the wall and nearly letting the biters get to her. Just standing there, serving herself up. She's much better now, but she has her bouts. Which is why she needs to be here. Where we know how to control her- help her."

Andrea hadn't missed the way he quickly added 'help her', though... Lacey was pretty tough to begin with, she probably still put up a good fight, even if she'd gone a little wacko. But the way they were making these decisions _for her_. It just didn't sit right. Even though she'd already explained to her and Michonne that she was too weak, and-

She wouldn't come with them. She wanted to stay here. In Woodbury... Stable, safe, reliable. Woodbury...

The Governor changed the topic easily, quickly, even, so it couldn't be furthered discussed as he poured himself a drink and offered one to Andrea too.

.

"I thought we had an agreement...?" Michonne practically hissed with her eyes narrowed when Andrea had returned with a shrug in her shoulders and an expression that was somewhat unreadable. But with the way that Andrea was avoiding meeting her gaze it couldn't mean good news.

"We can always leave tomorrow or the following day." Andrea offered, giving that shrug again.

"The following day." Michonne repeated, and it was sinking in, words from earlier that morning sounding off again in her mind, echoing. Words about charming-sweet-talk. Fuck's sake...

"We don't want to walk into trouble we can't get out of." the blonde looked at the bed, at their stuff, it wasn't packed, but it was ready to be packed, at a moments notice. Should've been packed that morning, they should be leaving _now_ like they planned. But they weren't. Because the lure of the town had caught Andrea. The lure that had been casted by the Governor.

"Tell me about it."

"Michonne, it is just a day or two." Andrea was almost begging, but it didn't matter, Michonne wouldn't leave without her anyway, and she wasn't leaving without Lacey either.

She started for the door, "I heard you the first time... Lacey was right." she swept through the threshold and brought the door with her to slam shut.

.

Children were laughing and playing, chasing each other around, a game. Like it was all just a game. Like the world had not ended close to nine months ago, like there were no living dead things who wanted their flesh for breakfast, lunch and dinner and their brains for dessert. It was always these days, these rare, little party days Lacey would never get used to. Everyone, even _the air_ was just so carefree. And sure, she could get the idea of maybe a couple minutes of normalcy, a good hard laugh, maybe even a good hard fuck (heh). But that was largely all Woodbury was- feigning normal. She knew the dirty little secrets though, she knew of the skeletons in the closet- most of them at least. And it seemed cheery and bright, but tonight, the event that would occur reminded her that these people knew exactly what was going on, where they were, they just didn't really understand the severity of it. She never really got used to walking around without a weapon on her either, but that couldn't be helped. She croaked out a dismal sigh.

She stood far off from the main area of festivities, arms crossed and hating the way the sun beat down on her and made her want to shed her brother's sweater. The townspeople were all bare arms and legs, somehow still fashionable, paying attention to the seasons while they were blocked in in their own little slice of '_paradise_'. It was Dr. Stevens who came over to her home a little while after Merle had left and picked out an outfit for her, saying she needed to lighten up, they needed this break, and it would do them good. Lacey harrumphed and stayed in her sweatpants and t-shirt, nestled almost fully under the covers of her bed where she had retreated upon sound of the knocks on the door, her name being called. But somehow the doc always managed to get her out of her bed, changed and out of the house... Just for the public to avoid her at all costs, no matter how carefree they were...

She felt a presence settle beside her as she eyed the crowd of simpletons. From the corner of her eye she saw Michonne, that ever-present scowl on her face. Of course it was her. The other five people who dared get that close to her were in her line of vision. Andrea was beside Keenan chatting with Milton, Merle was walking with one of the other guardsmen, she couldn't tell which from where she was standing, but she hoped that Merle was scrounging for some goddamn cigarettes with whoever that asshole was, and Dr. Stevens and The Governor were among the bulk of the citizens.

"What the hell, you biding your time or something? The longer you stay the harder it's going to be to get out of here. It's been five days, dude. Six if we count your night of arrival." Lacey grumbled, her eyes staying glued to the people in front of her, still so... confused at how they could act this way.

"I'm not leaving without you and Andrea." Michonne grumbled back.

Lacey sighed, "Lost cause here," she gestured to herself, then nodded toward Andrea, "And she appears to be getting quite comfortable." Andrea was smiling, laughing, drinking, and being all around merry, though she kept her distance from Keenan, the scraggly bearded Irishman tended to forget about personal boundaries when he was drinking and having a good time.

"She needed to get better. She's better now, so we can leave. All of us."

The blonde groaned and rolled her eyes, "Why don't you just give up on me already?"

"Because I won't! We thought you were dead, " Michonne said sharply, emotion tinting her tone, "And now we find you here, alive? You're not staying with the people who stole you. You don't belong here. Soon as we're all out those gates, walking away from this, you'll remember who you are..."

Lacey turned to look at her friend, nodding shortly to her, truly curious and halfway invested now, "And what's that?"

Michonne tore her eyes away from the Woodbury citizens to meet Lacey's green eyed gaze, and stated staunchly, "A warrior."

A warrior... She had been a warrior once, she remembered. Her eyes fell to her boots, away from Michonne's piercing stare. Her boots. Boots that had run to the aide of others, that had kicked away threats, crushed skulls, boots she always kept half way tied up, near her feet where ever she slept, ready to slip on and jump into action if needed. She took in Michonne's words, but she was dragged from her thoughts, interrupted by the sound of someone calling her name, loudly, obnoxiously even. She rolled her eyes before she lifted her head again.

"If you'll excuse me, I must answer to the shouts of an Irishman, most likely about me needing to '_mingle_'." she explained and shuddered. She started to walk toward Keenan who was waving his arm, urging her to come over. Everyone was gathering around and the Governor was swerving his way through them to stand up on a porch.

"If I were you," Lacey said, walking sideways, "I'd make this my last day here." and she turned her back, walking toward Keenan who offered her a cup of what ever the hell it was that everyone was drinking, she took the cup but wasn't at all interested in drinking it- 'Don't drink the Kool-Aid'. The crowd hushed slowly as the Governor stood two steps higher than them, calling out to them.

"Alright! Hey! Uhm." he paused to search for the right words, as if he hadn't been rehearsing all morning on what he'd planned to say, "The first time we gathered there was nine of us holed up in an apartment with Spam and Saltine crackers... Well look at us now," he chuckled, and a few people in the crowd laughed as well. Lacey rolled her eyes and inspected the liquid in the cup. She sniffed it, and recoiled- nope, no way. The Governor continued, "We've built a place that we can call home. It may be held together with duct tape and string, but it works. It's ours..." he paused for a moment, a stupid smile on his mouth, "So today, we celebrate how far we've come. We remember those we've lost. We raise a glass to us!" his rose his plastic cup up, and those in the crowd with a drink mimicked the motion.

"Oh, I'm gonna be sick." Lacey mumbled under her breath.

"You alright?" Keenan asked, an arm coming around her shoulders. Her eyes widened slightly, she thought she'd said that quieter.

"Fine," she said quickly, "I just," she thought quickly, putting the back of a hand to her forehead, "It must be the heat getting to me. I'm just going to sit down in some shade." she eased herself out of Keenan's touch when he gave a nod. She headed for any chairs that were already parked in the shade of trees, even though she really wanted to just go home, take off that stupid dress, crawl into bed and go to sleep. But she knew she couldn't do that. Unnecessary panic would rise, and she really didn't have it in her to explain she wasn't scheming again, she wasn't trying to hide (though really she was), she just wanted to lie down. Be alone. But no one believes a crazy person. As she headed for a bench seat she saw Michonne making her way away from the party. Oh, how she envied her...

The people of Woodbury got back to talking, eating, and drinking - general party nonsense. Lacey let her eyes follow one person, then another, and another, all while keeping on tabs on where her very importants were. She hummed quietly, a song she hadn't heard in years, a song she wished she could listen to, but would have to make due with her own voice and music in her head. She withheld a chuckle whenever the odd passerby picked up their pace when hearing the muttered lyrics coming from her mouth. "_It's a violent pornography. Choking chicks and sodomy. The kinda shit that's on your TV_."

Among the crowd she saw smiles, laughter... Weakness... Weakness that she had developed by affiliation. Subjugation. Out of the what ever 70 of them, maybe less than a quarter of them could defend themselves. And tonight's festivities would further indulge in their idea that they were safe, that they had nothing to fear, really. What was a walker? Just something for entertainment purposes, harmless, simple creatures.

Lacey's jaw clenched as the music and words continued in her head, a glare in her eye when she zeroed in on the Governor speaking with Milton and Keenan, calling Merle over. The citizens looking at him like he was he some kind of savior. "_Can you say brainwashing? Br-br-br-brainwashing. It's a non-stop disco_..."

.

.

Sam's attention fell away from Daryl, she wiped at her face with the back of her hand, "Hungry. She's gotta be hungry."

She looked to the wailing infant in Carl's arms then back to Daryl. Rick's sobs had subsided but he'd yet to pull himself up off the ground. Daryl patted her cheek, 'Later', was conveyed through his eyes and she gave a small nod. He moved on to Rick who was slowly climbing to his feet, though he seemed to sway like a ship at harbor, unblinking and unaware. Hershel looked over the newborn, declaring she was healthy but she needed formula quickly if she was going to survive.

Daryl looked at the baby, then to Sam beside him, then shot a short glance to Erin and Honey. Another girl to protect. If Rick wouldn't do it, he'd take up the task until he was ready.

Maggie, Glenn and Sam offered to go with Daryl on a hunt for baby essentials, formula being the top priority.

"Sis, you need to stay here. Beth," he had a hand on Sam's shoulder as he called the other teenager over, stooping slightly to speak hushedly to the girls, "Kid just lost his mom," he nodded to Carl, and Sam's stomach squeezed unpleasantly, Lori's final screams sounded in her ears again. Beth just gave a nod of understanding, "His dad ain't doin' so hot." Daryl said. The unspoken request was understood, both girls nodding.

"We'll look out for him." Beth said with another nod.

Daryl let his hand fall away from Sam's shoulder as he called out to the considerably smaller group, "You two get the fence! Too many of 'em pile up we got ourselves a problem! Glenn, Maggie! Vámonos!"

Rick snatched up his discarded axe and ran into the cell block. Everyone saw, but Sam had moved to follow him, calling after him.

"Sammy, you stick close to that baby!" Daryl's snap halted her movements, "Get the gate! C'mon, we're gonna lose a life!"

Everyone sprang into motion following Daryl's orders. Less than a minute later Maggie was perched behind Daryl on his bike, and the gate was open. They drove through, and the gate closed after them.

For a few long moments it was deathly (pun definitely not intended) quiet in the yard. The baby's cries were growing quiet, losing their strength. Carl squirmed slightly and Sam stepped toward the Grimes siblings. "Do you want- I mean, would you like me to...?" she positioned her hands in a way of offering and preparation to take up the baby.

"Yeah," Carl mumbled quietly as he nodded and passed her off, "Thanks."

Sam gave a small smile, carefully taking up the baby, cradling her as gently, but as firmly, as possible. She stuck her pinky in the baby girl's mouth in hopes of ceasing her cries. And it worked. She sucked at Sam's finger, whimpering quietly. Sam swung her gaze all around, all eyes were on her, but she didn't know what to do, she was acting on learned instinct. She looked to Jo, without Daryl he was in command.

He met her gaze and inhaled through his nose, on his exhale he breathed, "Okay." then continued in a stronger, louder, confident voice, "We should move the bodies out of the common area, for now, at least, then move inside. We'll take care of the bodies in the cell block later on. Stay on your guard, watch each other's backs. We're not losing anybody else today."

.

.

Breaking into the Governor's place was almost too easy. Michonne went straight to the cabinet and gained possession of her weapon again. The katana with its sheath and strap was settled in its rightful place against her back. She felt complete again - calmer, safer. And she should've just left after that. Should've just took her weapon, left the apartment and went on her merry way. But the clutter on the Governor's desk caught her eye. Various papers, pen, and notebooks were scattered all over the desk with no real organization involved. The loose leaf notes weren't all that diabolical, not that she really expected them to be. She flipped open one notebook that look recently penned in, the one more centered in front of the desk chair. There was regular bullshit, a lot of scheduling, tasks, side notes written in the margins, arrows and things crossed out and what not. There a page with a list of names, and the name 'Penny' written at the bottom in all capital letters, inked three times over, then a number of pages with just single slashes in the lines, on each line, front and back- interesting, to say the least. But then there was a section of five or so pages, all with the same thing inked on it. Lines carefully draw with a straight edge. Seven across, four down, creating equal boxes. At the top was Lacey's name, and that's what really caught her attention. The boxes symbolized days, that was obvious, but the schedule that it recorded was weird. It wasn't like the other schedules. More boxes were empty than full, but the days that were full, and this was even more peculiar, had the name 'Grady' penned in them. There wasn't any sort of pattern to it. On each agenda page with Lacey's name at the top the placement of Grady's name varied, it was sporadic and unusual, and for some reason unsettling as well. It made Michonne's stomach twist up into knots. There were no other names besides Grady's either. It didn't make any sense.

Michonne didn't have any time to delve into deeper detail, to try and crack what the hell this catalog surrounding Lacey meant, because she heard a commotion coming down the hall and toward the door.

She moved quickly, concealing herself and prepared to defend herself if needed. She heard the voices and recognized each of them. The Governor (of course), Milton, Keenan and Merle. They were talking about the current festivities, and the event that would occur later tonight and the power it would drain, the power Milton needed for his experiment. But even with Keenan backing up Milton they blew off the science-type and told him to just enjoy himself tonight and pick up the experiment tomorrow. And after Milton agreed, they had picked up what they needed and headed for the door again, their voices growing distant. But Michonne could hear their words before they grew too muffled.

"You're gonna put Lacey out early tonight, right? Before it starts. You know how she was the last times..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I remember. She'll be out before the music starts, guaranteed."

Michonne couldn't recall in the notebook which day indicated today, and if that day had had '_Grady_' scrawled in it or not, but either way she needed to get out of that apartment, she needed to figure out what the fuck was going on, but most importantly she, Andrea and Lacey had to get the hell out of there...

But a detour to the Old Mill mucked things up slightly- slightly being enough to cause a hitch in Michonne's plans. To become '_incarcerated_'. But she couldn't resist it, couldn't understand more than anything, but she couldn't resist the urge to purge the world of the walking dead contained on the sidelines within what looked like a DIY miniature stadium. What ever was going on in Woodbury... it was getting stranger and stranger by the moment.

Lacey had put into words well, 'Nine out of ten dentists recommend you take your chances on the road and get the fuck out of here before it's too fucking late.'

.

.

Glenn and Jo had dragged out as many bodies as they could. Amy and Beth helped with the lighter corpses and Rocket tried her best to yank the dead by their clothes, but it proved ineffective when the cloth just tore in her teeth. So instead she took up the task as babysitter, with Hershel as her second set of eyes and ears. Sam sat at one of the tables with the unnamed Grimes baby still cradled in her arms. The girl whined and pouted and sobbed, and every time Sam would offer her finger, silencing her cries for minutes at a time. She knew that ultimately her pinky wouldn't suffice and that's when they'd be in serious trouble. Carl and Sophia, who'd both lost their mothers just an hour ago, flanked her. Erin and Honey could relate with the loss of a maternal figure as well. Even though Amy was great, it just wasn't the same. Amy was a kid before this, she and Jo were the youngest couple (if Carl and Erin were excluded, though their relationship had really been on and off over the past months), and she didn't really know how to take care of a child, let alone two little girls. Though Honey seemed anything but a baby now, her concern completely homed in on the tiny thing in Sam's arms. An inquisitive stare was in her dark eyes, a pinch in her brow, a worried frown on her lips.

"So, uhm..." Sam muttered quietly, the baby having closed her eyes and fallen asleep to the rhythm of her hiccuping whimpers, "We can't call her 'The Baby'..." she said slowly, eyes scanning the group around her before settling on Carl. He hadn't spoken a word since they were outside, his stare just as, if not more, concerned as Honey's.

"I, uh... I don't know. For a while, I mean, since I knew... I thought if the baby was a girl Sophia would be a nice name." he mumbled.

Sophia smiled.

"Sophia Jr." Sam said, giving a small shrug, "Got a nice ring to it." she smiled. They laughed quietly, but then all was quiet again, and all eyes were on the, still, unnamed baby as she slept. Each child in the group was motherless, with fathers absent, or they were fatherless thanks to the new mad world, or the world before. Sam was just the head of a group of orphans again.

"Glenn and Jo are digging graves for, uhm-," Amy's voice caught in her throat as she and Beth entered the common area. She jutted a thumb over her shoulder, then sighed. "How's everyone doing?"

"My arms are starting to cramp." Sam said with a pained sort of grin. Amy situated the baby from her arms and into her own and settled into a comfortable spot. The quiet took over again. The wait for Daryl and Maggie was excruciating.

.

.

Andrea was called for another chat with the Governor, though this time, instead of a farewell, she found herself begging him to allow Michonne to stay. After her 'little indiscretion' and the fact that she unsettled people the Governor insisted that her barbaric tendencies weren't welcome. She begged, and begged. And while she was begging, Michonne was off on another mission, this time it was her final attempt to convince Lacey to leave with them. She waited an entire minute after Merle had left with a few guys in a truck, legs jittery, bouncing on her balls of her feet before she bolted for the house.

"We gotta go." Michonne said the instant Lacey opened up her door, barreling past her and pacing the living room.

"Hey, woah!" Lacey had said and shut the door quickly, "I heard about what happened. Why didn't you just grab your shit then get your ass in gear hop the wall with Andrea?"

"I was going to, believe me, I was. But then I heard them talking. And I saw this-this notebook and- they had these captive walkers-," she paused and grabbed the blonde by her shoulders, "Lacey, you've got to come with us. You can't stay here. They-," Michonne couldn't really say what they were doing to her, she had no idea, but they had her on a schedule, and it couldn't be good, especially if she didn't know about it, given her confused wide eyed stare.

"Mi," Lacey started gently, "I'm added weight. All I'll do is help you sink faster. You need to get Andrea, and you need to go. Forget this place and forget me, get as far away as possible and don't even think about coming back." she had put her hands on Michonne's shoulders as she spoke, "Do you understand?" with a discouraging shake of her head she mumbled, "My goose is cooked."

Michonne's hands fell away. And she just stared at Lacey... She really had given up. There wasn't any getting through to her. She lost her. She stepped away from Lacey's touch, and started for the door, she grabbed the handle, and paused before turning it, "I'm sorry this happened to you." she said quietly, and turned the handle, and left, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

.

Andrea was greeted by her duffel bag being shoved into her face, she hadn't taken two steps into the room before Michonne hopped up from a chair and started shoving their stuff on the bed into their bags. All the while saying, "We gotta go."

Andrea sighed and dropped the empty duffel, "We've gotta talk... The Governor told me what happened. Mich, you can't do things like this, you're freaking people out. You're freaking _me_ out. Your antics are getting categorized into Lacey's incidents."

"The northeast wall is guarded by some little girl. We'll escape there after dark."

"We are not prisoners here!" Andrea said and that's what stopped Michonne's movements.

She looked to her friend, did she really not see what was going on here? "No one who comes here leaves."

"What are you talking about? It's safe." Andrea gestured around them, "There's food, there's shelter, there's people, for god's sake."

"That's what they show you, but you can't leave unless they make you. Look at Lacey, look at what's happened to her." Michonne went back to packing.

"Lacey is _not_ a good example, she's a total headcase-,"

"Are you forgetting the part where they forcibly took her from us?!"

"Michonne, look at her. She's clearly not mentally _there_ anymore. Who are we to know if they took her, or if she escaped the men who took her and found sanctuary with these people?"

"She's not crazy."

"Come on, you've seen her. You see the way they treat her."

"She's on a schedule, Andrea. They have her on some kind of schedule, they were talking about _putting her out_ before what ever is going on tonight."

"What do you expect? She's violent."

"Why are you defending them?! Isn't she your friend? _She_ came back for _you_ and this is what happened! They're _doing_ something to her!"

"You are not making any sense. Mich, maybe you need to sit down for a minute."

"You need to trust me." Michonne spoke slowly, her hands out in front of her to stop Andrea from trying to reach out to her and ease her to sit down. There wasn't any time to sit, they were wasting time as it was arguing over this, time was of the essence!

"And you need to give me more to go on. We got a good thing going here." Andrea said.

Michonne straightened, "I thought this was temporary..."

"And I think we need this." Andrea shrugged, "I wanna give this place a real shot." she tried to beg, but she was really starting to get exhausted from all this convincing and all of it seeming to be useless.

"I tried." Michonne shot back.

"Breaking into houses- that is not trying. That is sabotaging." Andrea said tiredly, falling to sit on the bed.

"This place is not what they say it is." Michonne, like she had with Lacey, put her hands on Andrea's shoulders, and made sure she held Andrea's gaze. If she couldn't leave with both women she would still leave with Andrea. As tough as she was and projected to be, she didn't want to be alone again. Not again...

.

Andrea hadn't been fully convinced, but Michonne hadn't steered her wrong over the past eight months, why would she suddenly do that now? It was her gut that kept them alive... Aside from Rocket who was always on guard and the new pair of walkers (that Michonne fixed up like the old ones) that covered their scent. She and Michonne were packed, their bags, much heavier than they had been when they arrived in Woodbury, were hanging from their shoulders as they walked down the main street. The party was still going but was slowly dying down, and from the side of their vision they could see Lacey among them. No doubt Merle had pulled her from the house back into it again. She looked miserable, wrapped up in her brother's sweater, perched in a lawn chair, legs criss-crossed, boots tucked beneath her, arms crossed and a pair of sunglass settled on the bridge of her nose.

A frown on her mouth, she looked over the dark lenses to see Michonne and Andrea finally making their departure. She fought the urge to cheer, give a thumbs up, groan '_It's about damn time!_', or even smile. But Merle saw her attention had been drawn away, and he followed the same path her eyes had taken.

"Hey, hey! Girls! Where y'all off to in such a hurry! Huh?" Merle had shot up from his seat, but Lacey stayed in place, watching him chase after them. Michonne was all but guiding, dragging, Andrea by the arm toward the main gate.

"Hey, come on, now. Y'all are breakin' my heart runnin' away like that." Merle caught up with them, blocking their path, causing them to stop.

"We're leaving." Michonne stated.

Merle quirked his head to side slightly, "It's almost curfew. I'd have to arrange an escort." his voice carried making it easy for Lacey to hear, and she rolled her eyes, pushing the frames up higher on her nose. "I mean, the party's still going on. And are you really gonna stand there an' tell me you're just gonna leave little Lacey here? I thought y'all was friends."

"I'm cool with it!" Lacey called over, lifting one arm to give a brief flash of devil horns before tucking her arm back into place crossed beneath her bust. She fought a grin when the people around her shifted uncomfortably.

There was a quiet moment when all she could see was Merle's 'sweet talk' wasn't cutting it and he finally took a step back, "Alright, wait here a sec." and he went to the gate.

Lacey couldn't hear much after that, but she could see Andrea walk after Merle with a look of confusion on her face. Then Merle made a motion with his hand for her to step away, most likely, because, blah-blah-blah top secret guardsmen business. Andrea's confusion was swept away, looking completely dumbfounded instead as she made her way back to Michonne.

"Clear!" was called a few moments later, and Michonne seemed caught off guard, and so was Lacey. She sat up a little straighter in her seat, straining to hear something, anything.

"Now if I was y'all, I'd find some shelter before nightfall." she heard Merle advise.

Conversations were spoken with quiet voices again when Andrea turned to fix Michonne with a look. Merle called for them to get a move on, but then Andrea told them to close the gates. What- What?! Lacey was impressed with herself, her only reaction being her hands springing away to administer a death grip to the armrests of her chair. What the hell was happening?! She hadn't really expected the doors to open, but then they _do_ open and Andrea tells them to close them? But- but- but they're not on the right side of the gate yet. They're not free yet. Someone clearly needed to go over the plan with Andrea again. First open gate, then walk out, then close gate when they're on the outside. Simple! What was this!?

The argument was quiet, but heated, she could tell just by the facial expressions on her friends' faces. And Lacey can feel the eyes on her, the way she's gripping her chair, the way her own eyes were pinned firmly in the direction of the gate, there was no doubt in her mind that people were assuming she was fighting the unbelievable, unrelenting want to run through the gates and throw herself to the biters. Since, ya know, she was a psycho, after all.

But then Michonne was walking away, walking away without Andrea, through the gate, and not even flinching when Andrea called after. The gates closed. Michonne was gone from sight but Andrea was pressed to the wood, looking through, watching her leave without a backward glance, without a stutter in her step.

Merle was heading back Lacey's way and she tried to ease her rigid posture quickly. She slipped her glasses up to perch on top of her head, the light was already starting to fade from the sky.

"May I please be excused from any further activities that plague this wretched day?" she stated slowly and then flashed a bright grin, eyes closed and teeth shining.

Merle snorted, "Yeah, yeah. Let's go home." he offered his hand to her and laughed when she squealed and practically launched herself from the chair and hooked her arm with his. He bid the bystanding townies a 'See y'all later tonight', and they started home.

"I'll get you your tea and then I'm out for the night, out to kick some ass."

"Why, how gentlemanly of you." she commented with a smirk.

"Ya know, you could probably do some real damage in the fights," Merle said, and then immediately added before she could verbalize her protest, "But I know, I know, you ain't the type to fight without cause," he quoted like the words left a bad taste in his mouth, "Nobody's ballsy enough to fight ya anyhow."

"You are." she nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.

"Now, girly, we know how that would end." he chuckled as they reached the porch and he opened the door.

"Yeah," she chuckled too, "Woodbury would grieve your loses with you. Gettin' beat up by a girl? What are you, some kind of pansy?" she laughed loudly, her laughter mixed with Merle's as they made their way to the kitchen. Kettle filled up and placed on a burner, they traded playful jabs at each other until the whistling sounded and Lacey was set up with her tea, Merle changed his clothes and then he was out the door with a shouted 'Night, sweetheart!'

.

.

From outside the cellblock they could hear Rocket bark twice, then the sound of a rumbling engine drawing nearer. It was after dusk and Maggie and Daryl were finally coming back.

During the day, holes were dug and filled, though only one body occupied a grave. There was a short service, words shared, tears shed, a moment of silence, and goodbyes. The children were strong, far more mature than anticipated. And the cell block was cleared out of all bodies.

Star light and moon light gave the common area a sort of glow that offered them enough light to see one another. Candles had yet to be lit. The nameless Grimes was wailing again, starving by now, but still going on strong. She was in her brother's arms again, when Glenn burst through the doors with Maggie, Daryl, Axel and Oscar trailing close behind.

Maggie called to her sister to help her with the formula. Daryl whipped off the horse blanket and went to Carl, asking, "How's she doin'?" over the girl's loud cries.

He maneuvered the tiny girl into his arms, shushing and rocking her until the a bottle was presented to him. He angled the bottle carefully, tipping it slowly while he muttered, "Come on, come on," encouragingly.

And she took it, her cries coming to an abrupt halt as she sucked down the formula eagerly. It was quiet again. With all eyes on the contented babe, an air of relief came over the group. Daryl smirked smally at the smiling onlookers, and noted the way Sam's eyes had a watery sheen to them, and there was a tiny tremble in chin, on her mouth. But she wouldn't meet his gaze. Her attention was torn away by Honey placing a hand on her cheek, and she pulled the girl into her lap, hugging her close.

Daryl nodded at Carl, "She got a name yet?"

The boy shifted on his feet, "N-Not yet... I was thinking maybe-," he paused and sighed, "Carol... Andrea... Jacqui..." he paused again and cleared away that tightening in his windpipe, "Sarah, Rachel, Patricia, or..." he shifted his eyes between Daryl and Jo, before ultimately looking at the floor as he uttered, "Lacey." with his gaze firmly on the floor he added, swallowing the suffocating lump in his throat, "Or Lori..."

The group felt individual pangs of sorrow as Carl inadvertently reflected on how many of their own they had lost while he searched for a name for his sister.

"You like that? Huh? Little Asskicker?" Daryl cooed to the baby, he glanced around the group, "Right? That's a good name, right?"

And the mood lightened, chuckles came from all around, and Daryl continued to speak softly to the baby in his arms, a quarter of the formula down, and she kept drinking, her newborn gaze out of focus on Daryl, "You like that, Little Asskicker, huh? You like that, sweetheart?"

Baby Grimes was dozing as she was fixed up with all the infant gear Maggie and Daryl had found. Diapers, clothes, pacifiers, blankets. She was settled down with Maggie and Glenn for the night, and everyone else began to turn in too. Sam had offered on and off two hour shifts for watch with whoever else volunteered, which of course, she should've known, would be Daryl.

The instant he grabbed up Baby Grimes, talking softly to her, Sam wasn't sure she could tell him, she wasn't sure she _should_ tell him. How was she supposed to go about it anyway? _Oh, hey! You know your wife? Lacey? Yeah, well you totally knocked her up, but eight months ago she miscarried, if she hadn't lost it she probably would be having your baby right now too. And the sight of you with Rick's baby has been tearing me to pieces because I think about what could've been, yours and Lacey's son, because I know it would've been a boy, she totally would've had a boy- if she hadn't lost it, and if she hadn't of been stolen. Oh, and did I forget to mention that she was stolen? Yeah, there were some dudes, with guns and shit involved and, yeah, they sorta just took her from me, and Rocket, and Andrea- by the way we found her, and Michonne- she's cool, more on her later. But that was the last time I saw her, bleeding all over the forest floor, and then being carried off to god knows where... So! That's that, huh? Good talk!_

"Y'okay?" Daryl's gruff and exhaustion laced grumble pulled her from her thoughts, and when she looked at him, she lost it-

Her face fell into her hands and with all her might she fought from sobbing out loud. They managed to quiet Baby Grimes after almost half a day of non-stop crying, Sam didn't need to make any more unnecessary noise. Sam felt his arms come around her shoulders, pulling her into him, she could hear his voice but couldn't make out any words. It was a full ten minutes before she gained control over herself again, and she heard him say, with caution in his tone, "It's about Lacey..." it wasn't a question.

Sam nodded against his shoulder, inhaling shakily, she sniffled slightly before she sighed out, and with creaky whisper said, "She was pregnant."

.

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Michonne knew something, more likely, _someone_, was following her. For the past five minutes, following her, or at least whatever it was was on the same path as her. Walker or Governor's cronie, she could and would dispose of them easily.

She had made it at least two miles from Woodbury. Staying on the pavement for a while until merging into the forestry, for the reason of shaking any tail that may have been on her. Efforts proved fruitless as it seemed. She stopped, concealing herself against the heavy trunk of a tree, easing her katana from her back as quietly as possible.

She listened to the steps. It couldn't have been a walker (they just sort of stumbled and stomped), the steps she heard were careful and precise. Though twigs snapped and leaves crunched under foot, the person was definitely treading with caution. Breathing through an open mouth, wheezing the slightest bit. They were getting closer. Michonne waited, fingers gripping and regripping, blade raised and drawing back. And the person came into sight, passing Michonne and she let the blade go before she realized she recognized the small stature and blonde hair. She hissed a curse and locked her arms.

"Woah!" the protest came in the form of a harsh whisper, palms bared in surrender, hands and arms guarding her face and neck where Michonne's blade was hovering just a few inches away. She peeked through her fingers with a squinted gaze, prepared for the sting of the blade, but saw the sword was already moving away from her.

"Lacey?" Michonne whispered in complete disbelief.

The blonde breathed out a laugh, "Oh thank god."

"Were you following me this whole time?"

Lacey snorted quietly, "Of course I wasn't. Would you believe I had my sight drawn upward? Looking for a tree to climb and call it a night in. I had no idea I was following you, but," a grin spread across her mouth, her smile glinting in the moon light, "I took a moment to reconsider your offer..."

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Note: Now, I expect whole hearted, hand-written apologies no longer than 1000 words for all the ill things said against Lacey. Ha! Just kidding. But YAY!, right?! I believe keyboard smashes are in order! And does anyone recognize any of my references!? SO many references! Heh heh heh!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead. I do not own the lyrics I borrowed from System of a Down.


	9. Chapter 9

NOTE: I would like it to be known that I have chapters up to 12 in progress, AND I had hoped to get all of them out before the season continued, but that ain't happenin', _obviously_ [Because I'm lazy. Shh.]. BUT BE AWARE OF THAT! I got my shit planned out.  
BUT! In celebration of the show's return tonight, I'm posting the longest chapter so far! [Yaaay! I guess! :P]  
Also, warning upfront: Do not read **too** fast. Pace yourself. Or this long ass chapter will appear rushed. [beta tested ;D] You've been warned! Reviews are appreciated, as always.

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"Rocket was guiding us. We were in the pile up on the highway, she heard something and just bolted after it. We almost couldn't keep up, but then we found her. We found Andrea and walkers were almost one her and there someone else. And, you know..." she huffed a chuckle, her voice had a nasal twang to it. Nose still stuffed up from crying. She bit her lip for a moment, "I've never seen a sword fight in real life- it is seriously one of the coolest things to witness."

Daryl breathed out something of his own chuckle, a twitch of a smile on his mouth. There was no doubt in his mind it would've been a sight to see Lacey in action like that, having taken fencing lessons and all. He waited for Sam to continue, her laughter fading, but her smile stuck around for a while longer. She wiped her nose against her sleeve.

"So, uhm, Lacey fighting off Michonne, that's how we met her, and Rocket braining her walkers... They came to a truce, and I didn't trust her at first, Michonne, I mean. You can understand why, after all the bullshit we went through with strangers, right?" she was picking at her cuticles, her eyebrows rising and falling as she spoke, eyes focused on her fingers. Daryl was too interested in the story to care about her swearing, he just waited, and watched the different expressions flash across her face as she talked. "But Lacey trusted her instantly, which was, you know... they were like instant besties, it was nice. It was badass ladies to the power of two, intimidating but mildly arousing." she snorted at her own quip, "So we picked Andrea back up, and we started back to you guys, back to camp, and it was getting dark and- and Mich had asked if Lacey was married because of the ring on her finger," she looked at Daryl with a small smile, "And she said yes." and she waited, smile wavering, as if she wasn't sure if she should've said that.

But the corners of Daryl's mouth tilted up, and he turned his gaze away from hers to look out to the dark horizon.

"But she said _Mrs. Dixon_ was out of the question. Said that Lacey Dixon sounded like the nutso old woman in the neighbourhood who forgets her pants before she gets the mail, or the paper, or something like that." and the two shared a quiet laugh.

"And then," Sam started again when her laughter subsided, but her face fell into a grave expression as she recalled what happened next, the event fresh in her mind. She doubted she'd ever forget the night, that entire day and the day before it. So much had happened, and they weren't prepared for any of it. "Then, uhm, _it_ happened. And she had to get rid of her jeans because of, you know, the blood scent. And we kept going and it got darker, and then it was-," a crinkle formed between her brows, "It was so weird, they must've been following us for a while, and when we heard them it was scary. We hid, but then suddenly we were fighting. And she told me to run, always run, and don't turn back, always run to safety and don't worry about her. And it's like, sure, I could agree to it, in hypothetical terms, but when something like that _really_ happens... Of course I wasn't going to leave her. I stayed hidden for a while longer, but then one of them grabbed her, and I sorta lost it, and I tried to go to her, but then Michonne and Andrea were holding me back, and she was telling me-," a lump was forming in her throat again, choking off her words, she scrubbed under her nose again with the cuff of her sweater, "She was telling me to go, to j...just leave her, and they were pulling me away and then..." her chest heaved with the beginnings of new round of sobs, but she breathed slowly with her eyes closed and stayed in control, "They took her away, and we were running... We went back at sunrise, gathered her stuff, Michonne said it was best if we went on our own, in case they were still watching us, following us somehow... We didn't want to bring those guys to you. And it was sunrise, Rick said you'd be gone from that little camp, so..." she shrugged, "I was with Mich and Andrea the whole time, and I said time and time and time again that they probably weren't following us anymore and we could try to find you again, but they said, no, because the world is so big, and who knows where you were and if you were still alive. And for a while I had this little hope that maybe since we moved around so much that we might bump into you, or something... and then Andrea got sick, we weren't moving from the meat locker for almost two months, and I got antsy and... I wrote a note, took Rocket and... I found you all here."

"But as for Lacey..." she shrugged, her chin trembling again. She inhaled shakily, breathing out a sigh, "I just hope, where ever she is out there, she never became a walker."

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"I took a moment to reconsider your offer. And I figure- hell, killing a walker is just like riding a bike, I'll get back into the swing of things, ya know?" Lacey said quietly, "Life on the road. Never lost the alertness. Not as spry as I used to be. All together I might be a bit rusty, what with smoking and them feeding me like the witch in the Hansel and Gretel story, ya know what I mean? Bleh." she patted at her stomach.

Michonne scoffed a quiet laugh and nodded for Lacey to follow her, mumbling, "Thank god you're thinking clearly again."

"I always had a clear head. Well... Most of the time..." she shook her head to fight off the drowziness that hit her again, it had been hitting her in waves since she hopped the wall. "But, uhm, now that I literally stumbled upon you, uhh..." she fidgeted, and Michonne looked at her from the corner of her eye.

"I know that you and Andrea- _you_ had plans to go to the coast, but... My original hope was to walk all night, _if_ I managed to escape, and then at first light get a little rest and sorta just let my feet guide me and have confidence that they might take me to **them**... or at least some place safe." Lacey shook her head again, the speculation- said out loud it sounded even more ridiculous than in her head.

Michonne touched a hand to her shoulder, "You want to find them." She had that way of making something sound like neither a question or a statement, but somewhere in between. And Lacey just nodded.

"I mean, I'm sort of sore about leaving Merle like that, but..." she shrugged, "My girls. My man. My brother."

"I understand." Michonne said, "Tomorrow we'll see what we can do, but I have a feeling we'll have some trouble to deal with first."

Lacey tossed a glance over her shoulder after Michonne said that, afraid that they'd somehow known she left and sent someone after her already. But no. No way. They were far too distracted by the fights. They wouldn't notice her disappearance until the next morning.

"You're right." she breathed and stopped walking when her friend did, "We can't linger. Nobody's ever left Woodbury voluntarily. Once you're brought in, you die there." she stated without a tremor in her voice. All the things kept from the public she knew far too much of, almost every detail. All the lives cut short, all the people that were still worthy of life killed at the whims of a mad man. And it wasn't like they could report him, in a savage world like this- a kill or be killed world. They just had to escape, had to run and keep going. Go as far away as possible, just to keep surviving. "We're out. They'll try to bring us back or... They'll hunt us." and then there was a quiver in her speech. To go back to that, it almost terrified her.

"Then we'll hunt them first." Michonne said strongly, and by the moon light through the tree branches gaining their leaves again she saw Lacey's lips offer a small smirk. "Now," Michonne turned toward the tree she'd stopped them in front of, "Think you can climb this one?"

Lacey huffed in distress, looking upward at the imposing tree, before she grumbled, "I'm going to need a boost."

.

To say she was jittery would be a gross understatment. Her skin buzzed, her eyes felt heavy but were wide open and alert, and her hearing seemed like it was turned up a couple hundred notches. Just the sound of bugs in the air made her as skittish as a cat. She'd assured Michonne that she would -that she _could_- stay up on watch, claiming that over the past eight or so months she got more sleep than she rightfully needed, and had the luxury of her own bed. She doubted Michonne could say the same. She could handle the task while Michonne caught up on some much needed rest.

Lacey tried to ignore the tremors in her arms and legs, but by the way it caused the branch she was on to shake she had to force herself into stillness. She was confused as to why she was shaking and what was causing it. Maybe the slight chilling breeze in the night air? Supressed fear? She laced her fingers together, clamping tightly and locked her legs. She was fine, she convinced herself.

Just fine.

She successfully escaped Woodbury. (How the fuck had it been so easy this time? She gave the credit to her friends for reminding her of what and who she was, and who was out there missing her, and oh, how much she missed them.) Miraculously, she found Michonne. And tomorrow they were going to survive the hunt and then see if they could sniff out her people. They were going to survive. She was fine.

She was fine. Michonne was fine. They were fine. And they were both going to survive...

She repeated those statements in her head like a mantra...

'_You're freaking out, dude. You're totally freaking out_. Hah!'

She flailed, clutching at the thick branch beneath her. She had one of those full-body-spasm reactions before falling asleep- that moment when tripping and freefalling off a cliff seemed like great pre-REM-sleep-prepping material, just when relaxation was taking full effect. Ridiculous. But it was that voice that caught her off guard, startled her into heart hammering wakefulness. She hadn't even known she'd dozed off- but that voice. It sounded so real, like it was right next to her. And the words.

It was her twenty-first birthday and Rob had taken her out to five different bars, getting his little sister her free complimentary birthday drink and then moving on to the next, like any good big brother would. She'd downed three shots that burned and stung like hell, and two other drinks, something fruity and something bitter, and her vision was starting to swirl and blur, and her tongue began to slur. That's when Rob had steadied her and laughed, 'You're freaking out, dude. You're totally freaking out. Hah!' He kept her out for a while longer, saying he'd rather she barf out in public than in the car or somewhere at home. For the most part she had a good time, and she didn't throw up then or the next day. That was a fond memory in her mind. And those words had rung so loud and clear, she was sure... so sure he was there, but she knew that was impossible.

Lacey rubbed at her eyes, not allowing herself to fall asleep again. She could handle it. She'd promised.

And so she stayed true to her word...

.

Michonne woke shortly after first light and found a bug-eyed Lacey staring out among the endless trees. When she called quietly for her, to make sure she hadn't fallen asleep with her eyes open or something, she was rewarded with a single finger raised in a motion for silence. Michonne followed her gaze when the blonde raised an assault rifle fitted with a makeshift suppressor from her lap. There were a few walkers a ways out, but regardless of their distance they would make it difficult for Lacey and Michonne to get down from the tree with careful ease. They were the scourge of humanity anyway, the main threat when it really came down to it. Letting them live wouldn't give them good karma, their karma was fucked as it was- the moment their world turned into a boundless fuckstory.

Michonne glanced back to Lacey. Seeing the girl (after how she had acted confined within the walls of Woodbury) with such a heavy weapon in her grasp was strange. She wondered if she even knew what she was doing, really. But then. One shot. The muffled report sounded loud, but it could've been much louder. Two more shots, one right after the other. She didn't put the gun down though, eyes still trained on that area where the crumbled walkers lay. Half a minute later she clicked on the safety and shrugged the tension from her shoulders.

Lacey looked to Michonne with red rimmed, baggy and dark circled eyes. A pleasant, if not slightly manic looking, grin on her mouth. "Shall we, my dear?"

The descent was much easier than the climb. Once they were on solid ground Lacey paused to take inventory. By the light of the steadily brightening sky Michonne could see what Lacey was toting, items she couldn't see in the dark the previous night. And it was a drastic difference. In Woodbury Lacey didn't even carry a bag with her. She didn't have much in the way of personal belongings aside from her boots and sweater, but even before Woodbury she always had her bag with her, prepared. Now she was just... armed.

.

_The previous night._

Lacey finished off her tea with one gulp, hissing through clenched teeth at the burn in her throat but didn't give it anymore attention than that. She put the mug in the sink and slid on socked feet down the hall and almost tumbled into her room. Diving to the floor, her hands scrambled under the bed and pulled out an empty Sheriff's duffel (she had her ways...) and tossed it up onto the blankets. She stood up again and stared at the bag. Teal painted, and chipping, nails drumming against her mouth. The sky was darkening, and in the distance she could hear the slow fade in of music. Asinine. They had no idea what they were doing, what they were teaching, what they-

Stay or go. She caught her thumb nail between her teeth. Stay or go, stay or go? The only thing that was keeping her, if she was honest with herself, was Merle. All the time they'd spent together. How kind he was to her. Family, basically (or the closest to it)...  
But she had to shake the thought away. She needed to go. She _needed_ to, she had to get back to them- to her brother, her girls, and husband and everyone else. Merle would find them, if the Governor let him, he'd find them, and they'd all stay the hell away from Woodbury and they'd be a big, happy family of survivors again. Right?

She bit off a groan and clenched her fists at her sides. That was one of the most unrealistic ideas to ever cross her mind.

'_I can't. I can't. I can't. I just- I can't. I can't stay here anymore._' she pulled at the duffel's zipper and started flitting back and forth around the room to the bag, '_I mean, what better time to break out than this? While they're all distracted with their fucking, stupid- with the fights. And they think they've got me under control, under their thumb. It's been a long ass time since the final attempt, it should be easy. Just-_' she zipped up the bag, barely filling it at all. All she'd thrown in were a couple changes of clothes, which given what the Governor provided her, wasn't the best of attire to go trekking about the Georgian wilderness, but what the fuck ever. She was leaving this place. Back to her people -she hoped- where they hopefully kept her clothes. She loved a frilly, fun, sun dress as much as the next girl, but it seriously wasn't the most accomodating of outfits to wear these days. But then again, she could always modify.

She dropped the bag to the floor and pulled the blankets away, adjusting and fixing the sheets and a pillow to mimic her sleeping form. She brought the top blanket over again and stood back to review her work. To the quick glancing eye it was believable enough. Lacey grabbed the bag up by its strap and brought it over her head, settling the strap on her shoulder. The bag curved around her hip, practically weightless, but she'd soon remedy that. She still had much more to retrieve.

With a quick dash into the kitchen she grabbed some food and a few bottles of water, tossing them into her bag and slipping into her boots all at once. She turned out all the lights and paused before grabbing the front door's handle. On a second thought she went out through the back door and quietly, quickly made her way through the torch lit streets. Everyone was at the fights. The music was still low, so the main event hadn't started. Though the streets were bare, she was careful of her surroundings, of her own steps. She didn't run into anyone as she slipped into the Governor's apartment building.

There were some weapons in storage and a few stashes near the points of the wall that got the most trouble, but she was very much aware that the good stuff was kept within the Governor's personal quarters. Why? The guy didn't seem all that learned with firearms. He carried a pistol with him most times, and even then he didn't seem like kind of guy that would tote a concealed weapon _before_.

Lacey didn't dare flick on any light switch upon entering the apartment. She tread with cautious steps toward his desk, the cabinet behind, and the discarded and disorganized arsenal he had in a pile _hidden_ behind stacked boxes.

His desk was organized chaos, but she didn't pay any mind to it, she went straight for the artillery.

She chose the ones she was familiar with, and if in a pinch, ones that could work well as a battering weapon too. Most of the stuff was looted from near by police stations and army posts. Standard issue stuff. The bag got heavier as she packed away an assault rifle and police issued shotgun. Straps, holsters -better to have, and not need, than to need, and not have- suppressors, ammo- lots of ammo. She took a Glock and fitted it with a suppressor but kept it in her hands, just in case...

She _was_ going to get out of here, her mind determinedly and continuously repeated. She'd do what she needed to, if it came down to it.

The duffel was heavy, she'd shortened the strap too, making the weight force her into keeping straight posture, as well as not letting anything jostle. With the weight she felt a kind of safety as well.

There were a few less fortunate guards that were stationed on watch, but even away from direct light of the stadium, the tunes, and the action, they were distracted. Distracted enough that when she hit the ground on the other side of the wall with an obvious and loud thump and starting sprinting down the road and swerving into the trees they didn't even spare a glance in her direction.

She was running. Running with her boots half laced, a bag full of ammunition, guns, snacks and goddamn leggings and thin cotton dresses. Her lungs were burning and tears were stinging her eyes, but the pain didn't matter. Not the fire in her throat, or the throbbing in her ankles, or the vicious beat of her heart against her ribs. She was free...

.

"You know how to use those?" Michonne asked when Lacey stowed the rifle back in the bag and brought the shotgun with its strap over her head, letting it rest on her other shoulder. It hung across her back in the opposite direction of the bag. The pistol was in her hands now, safety flicked on.

The blonde adjusted the straps on her shoulders. It felt like an uncomfortably complex, lethal backpack. She gave a short nod, "When you're friends with police officers..." she shrugged, "We got roped into some time at a shooting range. And, uh," she toed at the dirt, "Merle taught me some basics... just in case." she shrugged again and Michonne gave a icy faced nod.

Lacey mumbled a minute later, with Michonne leading them, "Can't say I don't miss the feel of a long blade in my hands. You said Sam left with mine?"

Michonne nodded, a flicker of a fond smirk took over her lips.

"Was she any good with it?"

"She struggled. Not enough power in her swing, she'd get it stuck."

Lacey chuckled quietly, and waved with her free hand, "She's fine with her arrows anyway, right?"

"Definitely. Almost everyday, I didn't think she could get any better than she already was, but she proved me wrong." Michonne said, allowing herself that little smirk again.

Lacey smiled, but then a curling in her stomach tore her attention away. Merle was early to rise, how long would he wait before going to wake her up... and finding she wasn't there... God, the betrayal he'll feel.

"You okay?" Lacey's eyes flashed to Michonne and the ebony skinned woman stopped, an afflicted look coming across her face before she said, "Don't tell me you're having second thoughts."

"No," Lacey answered quickly, "I just-," she shrugged, "After all the- ugh. I don't know. Nevermind, I'm fine, I promise."

Michonne narrowed her eyes before she started walking again, and Lacey followed closely beside her. "I had to leave anyway, before I acted on those urges and made that dream with Merle a reality. Letting your fingers do the walking can only satisfy for so long, ya know what I mean? The spirit is strong but the flesh is weak, my friend."

Michonne snorted, and her eyes widened at the sound that Lacey had roused from her. Lacey let out a laugh, "We've obviously reached _that_ point in our friendship."

.

.

"I wonder if we should make one for Lacey."

The thought had been in Sam's head, probably Jo's too, but it was Sophia who had said it.

Sam, Jo and Sophia were standing beside the three graves. 'L', 'T', and 'C' shaped out of small stones. Long sticks were tied together to make crosses stuck in the dirt at the head of each grave. There was a flower in the center of the 'C', Jo had promised Erin he'd take her and Sophia outside the prison to pick flowers for their dearly departed later, there was work that needed to be tended to first. But he knew where that flower, that Cherokee Rose, had come from.

They were paying their respects, quietly, when Sophia piped up and said _that_. She didn't mean any harm by it, of course, but Sam and Jo's sharp, hurt gazes snapped to her in shock. And in amazement.

How could she be so strong? Standing in front of her mother's empty grave, not shedding a tear, without a tremble in her chin, but with heartache evident in her eyes... Yet she still recognized another one of their fallen, one that deserved a burial just as much as the rest.

"I mean, we never really had any time since we were moving around almost every day. But-," she took her eyes away from Carol's grave and looked to the older two.

For the longest time neither of them wanted to believe it, they didn't want to say it or give it any time, pay it any thought, or even a glance. Lacey was dead. No. They ignored the idea, ignored it 'til it went away. But it wouldn't go away. Her absence was a constant, painful reminder.

Jo inhaled, slowly filling up his chest when Sam turned a wondering gaze toward him.

Maybe it was time. Time to come to terms with it. Lay it rest. Shed their final tears. Say their final goodbyes. And...

And move on...

He sighed out the breath and nodded, "We could do that." his hands dove into his pockets and he kept nodding, "On another day. We've got a lot of cleaning up to do today."

He looked to Sophia, then to Sam, something in his eyes looked like he was almost... asking for permission, if it was okay with her too. Though she hadn't known Lacey nearly as long as the other two had (when it came to Jo no one else could really compare), he was still taking her say into consideration.

She stiffened her upper lip and gave an affirming nod.

Sophia took hold of Sam's hand, and they stood quietly for another couple minutes before heading back to the prison.

.

.

"He's probably sent out some men, quietly, of course. Most of them can track well, and we didn't do much to cover our trail." Lacey chewed on her lip and scanned all around them for walkers or-

"It's fine." Michonne mumbled, and both of them stiffened at the sound of something stumbling loudly through bushes, dry leaves and twigs. A walker, not too far away. Lacey squinted and tried to zero in on the movement, raising the pistol, but Michonne put a hand on the gun and lowered it for her.

"I've got an idea..." she said and pulled her sword from its scabbard and made her way toward the lone walker...

"Go back." Lacey chuckled, "Have I told you I like you? Like, a lot." she smirked at the message Michonne had created out of limbs and the bulk of the walker's body.

"The first time we met." Michonne huffed and wiped her blade clean of blood and fragments of bone. "Okay," she breathed and took Lacey's arm in hand, guiding them away from the warning sign. "Like you said, they're gonna be hot on our trail, any minute now we'll hear them stomping through. You gotta tell me what you want to do after we... lose them." Michonne said, her thick material hood and her pack hanging over her other arm. She was guiding them, somehow- Lacey was baffled at how she could navigate through something that was just a labyrinth of trees- toward the edge of the forest. The foliage became less thick, the trees fewer until they had their backs to the vastness and faced a wide open field.

Michonne glanced over the trees then approached one, storing her stuff in a hollow, leaving her with just her katana in hand. She was guiding them back into the thicket of endless trees again when Lacey spoke up to answer, slowly, cautiously, "I wanted to try and retrace my steps. Go back to where my people were last. And I know it's the longest, _longest_ long shot in the history of long shots, but I just- I don't know. I have this hope that I might stumble upon them, like they've been waiting all along. Just waiting for me to get back..." a hopeful, dreamy sort of smile took over her face, but she cleared her throat a moment later and the expression vanished, "But, uhm, ya know, if that doesn't happen, and, I mean, I can't track to save my life, we can do what you had planned, and I'll stick to it. I swear."

The hope in her face, the way it made her light up, that's the Lacey that Michonne remembered. But she didn't linger long. The broken, tired Lacey reappeared, and kept the frown on Michonne's mouth in place.

"Alright," she agreed, and dropped her hands from her hips and started away, "I'll be back soon."

"What? Where are you going?" Lacey immediately sprang after her, catching a hold of her arm, stopping her, and pulling her around to face her.

Michonne plucked the blonde's gentle grip from her arm and stated, "You're out of practice. You need to stay out of sight and out of the way. If something should happen to me you run and don't look back."

Those words abruptly brought up an unpleasant, old -yet still fresh- memory flashing in Lacey's mind. The struggle, the pain... Sam's agonizing screams.

She shook away the lingering images and sounds, shook her head at Michonne's words, "I can't do that. You know I can't."

"Hey. I stuck to my promise, I took your girl and kept her safe." Michonne took a step toward her, not wanting to have to resort to intimidation, but whatever worked...

"And now she's somewhere out there on her own." Lacey shot back and moved to walk in the direction Michonne had started in, "Just let me-,"

Michonne took hold of duffel's strap and swung her around this time, hands held firmly on her upper arms, looking her directly in the eyes, "Lacey, you've got no room to argue about this. You go climb up a tree, you stay concealed until I come back. If two hours pass and I'm not back you gotta move on on your own."

"No. No, wait. Mi, seriously-,"

"I'm not going to let them take you away again! And I'm not going to let you risk your life for mine! Stay. Here." and then Michonne was slinking off into the maze of trees, as if she knew the path she took by heart, on quick, quiet feet.

'_Don't leave me all alone!_' screamed from inside Lacey just as she lost sight of Michonne completely. In Woodbury she'd (unknowingly) grown accustomed to constant company. Always with someone, someone talking to her, hardly ever left by herself for more than a half an hour, aside from when she slept. But even then, she had been so used to the sound and feel of several bodies sleeping around her. So during the earlier months in Woodbury there were more than a few sleep-walking instances where Lacey wandered into Merle's room, eyes barely open while she whined and grumbled for Daryl. She'd slide herself beneath the covers beside him, incoherent mumbles (that sounded like chastising more than anything else) leaving her mouth as she searched for Merle's hand and dragged his arm over her side before falling into restful sleep again.

He hadn't told Lacey, sparing himself and her the embarrassment, but he'd mentioned it to Dr. Stevens. Explaining he didn't really know what to do, and he almost didn't want to guide her back to room and settle her back into her own bed when she obviously craved a loving embrace- the comfort and safety that came with it. But after some time the sleep-walking eventually stopped, abruptly even, almost as if she'd caught herself in the act and forced herself to knock it off. He wouldn't doubt that that's how it happened.

During her waking hours she was never left in solitude. She was on her own for a little while until literally stumbling onto Michonne, but it was the adrenaline and thrill of achievement, escape and freedom that had distracted her from realizing.

She felt smaller among the tall looming trees surrounding her. Her chest tightened and she gripped the pistol in her hand with a firmer hold. Her heart pumped a little faster, and faster until it covered up the sound of the deafening silent ringing that filled the forest air. She struggled for breath, trying to keep it under control, in and out through her nose, slow breaths. But it wasn't working, and she opened her mouth in a desperate gulp for air.

A twig snapped and made her jump and spin on her heel, arm straight, gun aimed, finger poised on the trigger. A bird cawed from a different direction and elicited the same reaction.

"I **am** freaking out." she whispered to herself and shook her head and started walking, head tilted up, glancing around her every so often while she searched for a suitable tree to climb.

"State the facts. State what you know." she mumbled. The calming tactic had proved useful a few times before, so she took a few deep slow breaths, eyeing the tree she'd stopped in front of. She put the pistol in her bag, jumped twice to make sure everything was secure, and then reached for some hand holds and started to state the facts.

"My name is Lacey James Black." she grunted as she pulled herself up, foot catching a hold and pushing herself up higher, completely off the ground, "I'm 28 years old. I'm the third of four children from Duncan and Alexandra Joanna Black." she grabbed at the branches, climbing slightly easier now that she made it up the trunk. She breathed out a snort, "My mother preferred to be called A.J. and my father would always call her Alexa-Jo." she gasped when her foot slipped, but she caught herself, hands clutching tightly to the thick branch above her.

She didn't want to look down, but her curious eyes betrayed her and she let out a shaky breath. "I have three brothers: Benjamin, Robert and Joseph." with each name said she pulled herself half way over a branch, swung her legs up after her and stood up carefully, seeking out the next place she'd grab and pull herself up onto, "I married a Southern hunter named Daryl Dixon on the side of a highway. I adopted two beautiful little girls, Honey and Erin. And Samantha Rome is like the little sister I always wanted. My best friend is Lori Grimes."

She eased her back against the trunk after she pulled the duffel's and shotgun's strap from around her shoulders. Legs dangling off either side of the branch she finally settled on. Sweat covered her almost everywhere, arms and legs burning and throbbing. She swiped at the moisture on her brow and under her eyes, sighing, "I escaped Woodbury and found my friend Michonne in the woods. We're almost home free. I'm 50 feet up in a tree. Michonne will be back within two hours..." she looked out among the nature engulfing her. The feeling of fear and panic started to creep into her chest again.

She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut, and started again, "My name is Lacey James Black..."

.

.

Deep within the prison Rick had spent the night with the now-deceased walker who devoured his wife. He was covered in a spray of blood he'd gained as he sliced and chopped through the walkers that blocked his path to the boiler room. He clutched a phone to his ear, it rang- it really had, and now a soft female voice was speaking to him. Telling him about a place that was safe, a place where she was with her own group- that consisted of other broken families, her own included, it was just her and her two brothers. Rick begged her, pleaded with her to let him and his group go to them. He had a son, and a new born, they'd already lost so many, they needed- _He_ needed them to be there, he couldn't protect them anymore, he couldn't bring them safety, he wasn't... he couldn't do this anymore. But the girl said she had to talk with her group, and the line fell silent.

If Rick hadn't been so distracted by the prospect of safety for his people -for his family- he would have realized that voice sounded familiar to him. That voice that sounded similar to the lighthearted tone that cursed him out almost 11 years ago when he almost made her believe he was really going to give her a speeding ticket as she pulled off the freeway, knowing (from Lori) she'd had a particularly excruciating day of lectures and exams... A New Yorker's cant she and her older brothers just couldn't shake no matter how long they'd been away from their home state... But he didn't recognize it. He just knew what she said. And she'd be calling back in two hours...

.

Sam sat almost opposite of Carl. Sophia and Erin were between them. Everyone was in the common area, spoons clinking in their bowls as they ate breakfast. The whole table was full, and those that couldn't fit took a seat where they could around the room. Sam had been watching Carl just stare at his bowl, not even picking up his spoon for the past three minutes.

"Carl, eat something." she muttered through her chewing, looking down to her bowl.

"I'm not-," Carl didn't even flinch, didn't raise his gaze.

"I know-," she cut him off, and god, _did she know_. They all knew the feeling too well. That emptiness. Those racing thoughts, the memories. The scenarios, what should've been done, what could've been said. Complete disinterest in almost everything. But in a world like this they couldn't fall into the depressed funk for too long. They needed to be alert, fit, ready to go, for anything. For an entire month Sam felt that void that nothing could fill, but she put on the best front she could muster, tried to carry on. Perhaps at Lacey's funeral she'd finally drop that front, drop that guilt weighing on her conscience, and truly carry on. "Just... try. Okay?" she said, she raised her eyes to look at him.

He didn't meet her gaze but his arms unfolded and his hand made to move for the spoon- until the sound of steps heading toward the common area hit all their ears and drew their focus to the door way Rick stood at. He pushed the gate open and walked over to the table, "Everybody okay?"

"Yeah. We are." Maggie answered for all of them.

"What about you?" Hershel asked as Rick came closer, eyes assessing each person at the table, in the room, but flitting over his newborn daughter quickly.

"Cleared out the boiler block." he said now keeping his gaze away from the group at the table as much as he could. Couldn't bear another glance at that baby, could hardly look at his son in the eye. Though both Grimes men were determined to keep their vision elsewhere, it seemed.

From the steps Daryl wondered, "How many were there?" and Sam shot him a glance over her shoulder.

"I don't know. Dozen, two dozen." Rick shook his head, the number of bodies he'd sliced through really was unclear, there were so many though... But there was the matter of the phone, the other group, he'd be getting a call soon, "I have to get back, just wanted to check on Carl." and he patted his son's shoulder in an awkward-try-at-reassuring way. No mention of the baby, his still unnamed daughter that was in Beth's arms and hadn't made a peep since Rick walked in. Sam swung her gaze back around in front of her when Glenn shot up from his seat.

"Rick. We can handle taking out the bodies. You don't have to." he offered and Jo made a sound of agreement from beside Daryl, Honey in his lap struggling to fully wake up.

"No, I do." Rick stated, then made a bee-line for the men on the steps, glancing between each of them before he settled on Daryl, "Everyone have a gun and a knife?"

"Yeah." Daryl nodded, "We're runnin' low on ammo though."

Sam felt her stomach flip in guilt.

"Maggie and me were planning on making a run this afternoon." Glenn said, "Some place where we could look for bullets and formula."

Rick seemed to go rigid for a moment before Daryl spoke up again, "We cleared out the generator room. Axel's there tryin' to fix it- in case of emergency. We wanna sweep the lower levels as well."

Rick nodded, "Good. Good." and then crossed the room in long strides, ignoring the calls of his name, opening and closing the gate after him and disappearing from sight.

Carl sighed quietly, and went back to staring at his breakfast, but making no move to eat it. Sam brought a hand over her face and picked up her empty bowl, as well as Sophia's and Erin's empty bowls and prepared them for washing.

Everyone has their own ways of coping, she reminded herself.

.

.

Lacey sat forward, eyes searching for the source of the sound her ears had picked up. The only thing her anxiety was good for was sharper senses, though she still had to squint when seeking out the sound of steady steps crunching leaves on the earth floor. She'd repeated her stated facts... well, she lost count of how many times she'd said it after twelve, but each time she tried to add a new fact, expanding it, to keep her distracted, keep her mind busy. Her eyes locked on movement.

"Mi! Thank something." she squeaked (thanking god didn't seem appropriate when he had nothing to do with the welfare of humanity anymore) when Michonne scurried nearer to her tree. She made a psst sound to catch her attention before she passed by the tree and left her totally stranded. Michonne craned her gaze upward and Lacey waved down, an action far too bizarrely casual for what was really going on, and what had taken place minutes ago. She climbed down as quickly and carefully as possible. When her boots thumped loudly with her landing she chuckled, "Gee, a couple of armless, jawless walkers on leashes would sure come in handy right about now. Wouldn't ya say?"

Michonne grimaced, offering a pinch of a grin when she tried to smile, "Just can't seem to keep a pair. Your dog killed mine, had to kill the last ones I fixed up."

Lacey's brow scrunched when she noticed Michonne's sour disposition, the way she leaned more on her right leg than her- "Oh, god! You're bleeding!"

Michonne covered the wound on her thigh with an already bloodied hand, having already tried putting pressure on the nick, "It's fine. I'll be okay. I have to-," she tried to grab for Lacey, to pull her up when she'd stooped down to one knee and pushed Michonne's hand away to examine the wound.

"Michonne, your leg. I need to treat it. I can fix it! Just-," Lacey sprang up and started for her bag, but then halted. She'd neglected to go to the infirmary in Woodbury in fear of getting caught by the doc. She said she'd do what she had to get out of there, take care of anyone who blocked her path... But she wouldn't have been able to follow through if she'd run into Dr. Stevens.

"We need medical supplies before you do that. I have to go back, but I promise you, I'm not leaving you for dead in the middle of the woods. I'll get you out of here before I-, if they-, before I-,"

"No, no, no! No more death. That Governor bastard's already taken far too many lives, he's not going to take another," Lacey stated and grabbed Michonne's hand still holding firmly to the grip of her sword and brought her other arm under the sharp edge.

Michonne tried to pull away but that only aided in what appeared to be Lacey's psychotic ploy. The blade dragged along her arm and she let go. The blonde hissed, gritting her teeth and clapping her hand over the probably three inch long, shallow cut on her inner forearm.

Her hand came away covered in blood, the wound steadily oozing.

"What the hell are you-," but Michonne's demand was cut short when Lacey grabbed at her hand, her bloodied one with Michonne's.

With wild, wide eyes she chortled, "We're blood sisters now."

Michonne shook her head in confusion, and Lacey continued, "Go. No doubt you've been leaving your own little hematic breadcrumb trail, I'll lead 'em on a different route if they're stupid enough to try and keep tracking you. Better they find me than you."

"Better neither of us." Michonne stated rigidly, something in her eyes begging Lacey not to be serious, not to do this. She couldn't really be this crazy. She didn't want to lose anyone else, but especially not her _again_.

"Just go." Lacey took her hand from Michonne's, the blood peeling away like glue, sticky, "I'm uninjured, leg wise at least. We'll meet up again in an hour, at the tree where you stored your stuff. We'll find some medical supplies and I can treat your wound. And we'll put all of this in our figurative rear view mirror." she was adjusting the straps around her shoulders, doing that little jump again to make sure everything was secure and winced when the cut on her arm bumped against her hip, staining the cloth of the dress, "But if complications arise... we stick to our deal." she nodded.

"Lacey-,"

"In an hour," Lacey reminded her and tapped a finger to her wrist, "Synchonize watches- go!"

"Lacey!"

Michonne's leg stung and caused her to stagger, and she knew she couldn't catch up with the mad blonde. She just hoped in an hour from now she would find her standing with a cocky smirk, leaning against the tree with the hollow and looking at her invisible wrist watch like she'd been waiting for a long while. Because that's the Lacey she wanted to see and wanted to find when they met up again, when Michonne finished her _business_.

.

.

"I'm gonna check on Rick." Hershel said, grunting as he pulled himself to his feet with his crutches help. With the baby fed, the dishes done, and the days task set, Sam had about 45 minutes before she, Jo and Amy would sweep some blocks Daryl assigned to them. With Oscar and Carl accompanying Daryl, the two groups would take care of any stragglers left from yesterday's walker-palooza. She didn't know Rick as well as she knew Daryl, and though they'd established a quick, strong, trusting sibling sort of bond, there was something about Rick that reminded her of her father. She didn't know much about the Grimes family drama either, just the basics, kind of, but she knew what it was like to lose someone close to you, to mourn them. And she wasn't only thinking of Lacey, she thought of her own parents too. She wanted to help, somehow, anyway she could. Hershel was headed for the gate that Rick had gone through without a glance backward, disregarding his new child, his first child, everyone, "Said he was in the boiler block, right?"

"I'll go with you." Sam said, and ran back into the block to retrieve Lacey's sword. "You'll need someone who, uhm..." she didn't chance a glance toward Maggie or Carl, "Knows where it is, and someone to cover you." she shrugged with a forced little smirk, "Buddy system."

Hershel nodded in understanding and thanks, "Lead the way."

Sam stepped through the gate, Hershel after her, and closed it behind them. She sent a nod through the bars when Daryl shot her a look from across the room...

"Rick?" Sam called when she pulled the door open, the bottom of it scraping against the floor and emitting a hideous sound, "Are you here?"

"Yeah..." she and Hershel heard in reply, "Yeah, Sammy."

Sam went down the steps first, slowly, careful of Hershel as he followed with precise placement of his crutches and foot.

When they were on the same level as Rick Hershel nodded to a vacant stool across the room, "May I?"

Rick hadn't looked at them directly since they entered the boiler room, and he still didn't look at them as he retrieved the chair for Hershel and set up just in front of the table. Hershel quietly thanked him and settled into the seat with small grunts of effort, setting his crutches to lean against the table.

Sam was eyeing Rick, unsure of what to do or what to say. Her gaze snapped to Hershel when she heard his quiet chuckling, "Still feel it..." he was referring to his leg, or rather the lack thereof, "I'm-," he wheezed a laugh, "I'm wigglin' my toes right now. I'm a ghost from the knee down."

Sam gave a weak smile when Hershel looked her way, but when his chuckling faded and they were all bathed in silence again, they were looking toward Rick.

"I'm sorry." he finally said, still unable to look at either of them.

And Hershel realized the error of his humor and tried to remedy it, "You saved my life, Rick."

"Mine too." Sam nodded along, "From what I've been told, you've saved a lot of lives at one point or another."

But what they said didn't seem to matter, or even register. And how could it? It hardly meant anything, when his wife-

"She was sorry... For the things that happened." Hershel said, "She told me that. She planned on tellin' you."

A battle waged within Sam's mind on whether or not she should approach him, apply physical comfort when Hershel's words seemed to bring a new wave a pain onto him. She decided to stay back, for now. And the old man continued, "Take your time. What ever you need... You carried us. You didn't let us give up, you got us here."

"It's not enough. It's not safe enough." Rick shook his head. Sam shot a look to Hershel.

He inhaled slowly before responding, "There isn't anywhere else. I know you want to get away from this, but we've run already."

Rick was shaking his head, though, as Hershel spoke, finally giving them each the briefest of glances, "I got a call."

The two stared on at Rick. The question deadpanned, echoed in the silence, "What?"

"Someone called." Rick reiterated, and shoved an old rotary dial telephone a few inches across the desk, "On this phone. A woman. She sounded young. She was part of a group. She said that they had a safe place."

Sam and Hershel shared a quiet conversation just between glances. Sam picked up the phone from the hook and brought it to her ear. Dead silence. She wasn't really expecting a dial tone, but she faked like she wasn't completely startled by Rick's claims. Like, of course the phones still worked, and someone called the prison they happened to be at, _**of course**_.

"They said they were just dialing numbers and I picked up." Rick explained, and Sam nodded to him as she set the phone back onto its hook.

Rick continued, missing the look that Hershel and Sam shared, "She said they'd be callin' back. If it sounds right, I'm gonna talk them into takin' us in."

"Did she say where they were?" Hershel asked.

"No. But it doesn't matter. If it's safe we'll get there... Don't tell the rest of the group, not yet." he paused and looked to Sam, saying her name with a noted strictness.

She put her palms in front of her, then made an 'x' over her heart. "I won't say a thing."

Rick nodded, and there was an edgy-ness about him, he couldn't stand still. He was fidgeting and still couldn't hold eye contact with either of them for more than a second.

"I'll sit here with ya. That's something I'm pretty good at nowadays." Hershel offered.

But Rick answered with a steady, "No."

Hershel nodded, he understood just as well as Sammy did- the call wouldn't come through if they were present. "Alright." he said and he grabbed up his crutches and caught the teen's eyes before jerking his head toward the exit. She resisted the urge to give at least a parting pat on the arm, she knew it wouldn't do any good, even if it was just to reassure herself.

The two left Rick in the boiler room. Sam with the sword drawn and ready in front of her, she wondered aloud when they were a minute into the journey back to C cell block, "He'll be okay, won't he?"

"It'll take time..." Hershel said, "But he'll be back on his feet again, I'm sure."

.

.

The final battle between the Governor's men -which Michonne had literally _cut down_ to just two- Merle and Garjulio (Neil, as Merle was more partial to)- and Michonne resulted in Merle bleeding from his nose and wincing from a heavy shot she'd dealt to his nuts with her boot, Neil with a slice across his chest, and the air painfully slammed from Michonne's lungs. Walkers had been drawn to the disturbance, breaking up the fight between the humans causing them to fight for their own lives against the corpses instead. Neil shaped up at the last minute and assisted Merle before his face was gnawed off, and Michonne ran away with the blood and juices from walker entrails soaked into the front of her clothes and skin, her wound still draining, still smarting...

She eventually slowed, limping, as she made her way back to the tree. Pleading in her mind and under her breath that please, please, please let her be there. She pulled her things from the hollow, waited for as long as she could, hoping that she'd hear frantic, tripping feet coming toward her, Lacey urging her to get moving already. Maybe even quoting some movie like she did a lot of the time, now more than ever (something Indiana Jones related probably, the past week in Woodbury she'd been rattling off quotes one after the other). Then she'd claim in a big, dramatic voice that she had a leg to operate on!

She listened for the sound of... hell, she didn't know, maybe a scream? Or another gun shot? Something that sounded like... closure, that would allow her to keep moving. But she didn't hear anything, she didn't see anything, aside from more walkers stumbling her way, but they had dismissed her completely because... because of the stench, the rotting innards that covered her masked her normal scent. It was like having her own pair of walkers again, but... more stomach churning.

In her head she could hear and see a vision of Lacey crossing her arms with an unimpressed look on her face. Telling her to go already, go find something to stop the bleeding of her wound, and clean it and, if needed, something to cauterize it.

So she reluctantly moved on, trying not to put too much pressure on her left leg, the pain becoming harder to ignore with each passing minute it intensified.

Lacey was tough, still, no matter how long she'd been confined in Woodbury. She was tough and a survivor way before Woodbury, way before the end of the world, even. It was in her blood, in her bones. She had those guns and all that ammo, a steady hand and a careful, precise shot- walkers wouldn't be what took her down... Which led her to think of what _had_ taken her down all those months ago.

She wasn't getting devoured by the walking dead, no. Michonne hadn't been able to kill Merle or Garjulio. If Lacey wasn't simply lost in the woods... she was caught and being taken back to Woodbury...

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By the time Sam and Hershel got back Daryl, Carl and Oscar were gone, starting the walk through of their portion of the prison. Sam ran a hand through her hand, puffing out a sigh as she took up her bow in exchange of the shashka.

"Is he doing alright?" Jo asked.

Sam glanced up from inspecting her arrows, resisting against answering with a huge, resounding- No! and instead answered, "We all have our ways of coping."

Jo and Amy nodded in agreement. He was brandishing an axe, with a pistol in his waistband, Amy had the same sort of geared up look, and she wondered, "Ready?"

.

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One man from Woodbury rose above the rest, taking everything into his hands (hand) to make it so he was still the best of the best. Neil was going to jeopardize the situation, make it far worse than it had to be, naturally he had to be silenced, and Merle did so with a quick draw and a shot to the back of the kid's head. The shot echoed through the forest and sky, startling the wildlife around, and most likely the undead life within a mile or so of his location. He stole away without the slightest tinge of guilt or remorse. His nose stung in a way it hadn't in almost nine months, but the overall bleeding had stopped. He was rushing through the trees, toward the forest's edge where he might find his way back to Woodbury by way of the road.

He would've made his way back on foot easily, too, but at the sound of voices disturbing the silent air, he went to investigate and found two beings not nearly as quick on their draw as he was, one of them with a familiar face. They weren't as tough as the farce they put on, and he had them working to his advantage in a matter of seconds. With his knife to the girl's throat, and his gun pressed to her temple, Glenn met his demands without hesitation, and they were all three settled in the truck and headed back to Woodbury by Merle's direction...

Michonne having witnessed it all, but too weak to intervene and help, felt almost all hope escape her again. The hope of being in a functioning, hopefully less hostile and insane as the people of Woodbury, group. She couldn't be on her own anymore, after being with Andrea and Sam for the past months, she knew now more than ever it wasn't safe to go alone anymore. Hope wasn't completely lost, she'd heard the girl say something about prison gates.

When the truck was gone from sight she stumbled away from her hiding stop, and started in the direction of where she knew the prison to be... but she paused, a basket full of powdered baby formula catching her eye...

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Rick received one final call after being terrified by the other survivors knowing his name without him even mentioning it beforehand.

It really was his way of coping. His mind creating this delusion to help him, to set the guilt free, to make him the leader again, collected, clear headed.

The final call was from Lori. Her voice explained the previous calls were from people that knew him. Lacey, Jim, Jacqui. (No fault on him for their deaths.) Lori's voice was so forgiving, and she pleaded him to keep going, for the baby and Carl and the rest of the group. He'd tearfully explained he couldn't keep it together, his plans fell apart in his hands, all his plans, because there was never any time. He told her he loved her, and he should've said it, and as the call started to cut out the last words were Lori telling him she loved him back, telling him to keep going- asking if he could do that.

He put the phone back, hanging up. He put himself back together, back in order, slowly. He shouldn't dwell on the lost. Show respect- yes, but let it shake him completely apart- no. He was still a father, still a leader. And he needed to act like it, to step up and _be_ it... Because that's what the others would've wanted, the ones they'd lost. It's what Lori wanted...

.

After a man-to-man discussion about the pain of loss of mothers (no matter how maternally-instinct-void they might have been before death) between Carl and Daryl the sweep was essentially done. Daryl had found Carol's knife lodged within the neck of a walker and insisted Oscar and Carl head on back while he took care of the one trapped in a cell that'd pretty much lost all its fight.

He needed time to himself, time to think, time understand, figure out, and anything else he'd neglected to let himself do.

First there was Honey and Erin on his mind, constantly on his mind. He didn't want to let the idea out, didn't want to let it bloom and plague his waking hours with nightmarish images as well. What if one day they were bit, what if they died and turned. What the hell would he do? How could he continue? Erin and Honey were the only ones who weren't armed, Erin was given specific direction to pick up Honey, if no one else had, and just run, run, run, run, run. She knew how to kill walkers, by observatoin, but she was never given the chance to act on her knowledge. It was too dangerous for someone so young and small. She was most likely seven years old now, he just couldn't- Children, they were just little girls... And they were his girls now. Not '_their_ girls', or '_our_ girls'. And he still felt like he didn't know what he was doing. Like he wasn't doing it right.

Then there was Sam. He didn't have to worry about her (as much), she'd developed into a little badass survivalist with a irritatingly sassy mouth while she was gone. But with her back again it brought an extra clench in his gut. There was a new kind of fear he hadn't even known he was fearful of, too. The disturbing realization that she was turning into him. She didn't share her feelings. She threw herself into battle. She had the need to protect and she'd probably throw herself to the walkers if it meant someone else might survive. Not even a sure chance of survival. _Might_ survive, _maybe_. She'd take the chance anyway. So much heart, with the belief that she had so much to prove and hardly anything to left to lose. But she didn't have to prove anything to anyone, except maybe herself. And with a burden like that... she'd never stop pushing her limits. She would die fighting until her final breath. She would die a hero.

And then there was Lacey...

After all of what Sam had told him, he had shoved the information and responding thoughts away to think on later. He loved her so much, but he hated her. Hated how selfless she was. And Sam wasn't just him, she'd picked up traits from Lacey too.  
The image of her was fading from his mind. He knew the key characteristics; blonde hair, green eyes, maybe an inch or so taller than Sam- he'd categorized it so eloquently as- short, but not. But he couldn't remember the way her smile looked (though sometimes he thought he saw a glimmer of it, similarities in Jo's smile, but it still wasn't it, it wasn't the same). He recalled old conversations but couldn't remember the way her voice sounded, he forgot the way she felt, or how it felt when she'd touched him.

She wore a ring he'd given her, a symbol that emphasized a promise. She'd carried his child, but she -or the microscopic being (probably a joint struggle)- was too weak to carry on. And then she was stolen. Taken. Against her will. God knows what became of her after that.

He just hoped that someday in the future he'd never stumble upon a vaguely familiar looking walker. Matted, filthy, blonde hair, eyes bloodshot, cloudy, a yellowed tint over what used to be a beautiful green. Incapable of words, her throat just home to snarls and growls, no longer the voice that used to lull people into momentary comfort, as she feigned confidence singing around a campfire with all eyes glued to her, though the whole situation was far more awkward than she could handle. A glimpse of sparkling shine through caked on gore and dirt and rot, a silver ring on a boney finger. No trace of the wonderful human that used to inhabit that body, that mind...

There was Sophia too, after all the shit he went through to find her, coming up fruitless, not giving up entirely when Lacey went off her bender after she saw her brothers die, as well as the children she'd just saved. But in the end it had been Sam and Lacey (to the rescue) who had never given up hope and found her, brought her home, a little worse for wear, but all the same, Sophia was still alive because of them.

And now Carol. The two had created a kind of bond after Lacey and Sam didn't return from their second rescue mission. It felt like failing with Sophia all over again. He was losing the ones that mattered the most, the ones that opened his chest, poked at his heart and made him feel something. Made him feel _everything_.

Failure. Failure to save them all, failure to keep his emotions in check, to not care...

The tip of Carol's knife sunk into the floor with heavy force, again and again and again. The knife jabbed into the wall twice, but no amount of stabbing out his frustrations through an unresponsive, inanimate object would satisfy him.

He stood up hastily, pacing the floor before the creaking door, continuously opening and closing, breath escaping his nose in irritated puffs. He tore the walker corpse blocking the door away and yanked the door open, knife clutched tightly in his grip and prepared for the creature inside to lurch forward in a sudden burst of energy at the sight of him... But nothing stood before him. Instead his gaze fell down to a crumpled body on the floor. The figure's head lolled against the wall, wincing at the light, chest heaving with slow, labored breaths. He fell to a crouch, reaching cautiously, and tilting the face toward him, receiving a weary glance. She still saw him with her own eyes, she was uninfected by the need to feast on flesh and organs.

Maybe there was still hope yet... He scooped up the exhausted body...

.

Erin smiled up at Beth when the teen paused in her stirrings of what would be part of tonight's dinner to give her a small grin. Beth stood at the table, and Carl was on a bench seat near her, his eyes focused on the gate. The muted brown-skinned girl sat down beside Carl, his gaze unwavering as she looked at him. She followed his eyes, looking at the gate. He'd been staring at it since he and Oscar had come back less than an hour ago, awaiting his father's return.

She looked back at him, then to her hands folded in her lap. Softly, she started- "I'm sorry about your mom." and when Carl didn't respond, merely giving a sort of flinching blink, she continued, "I lost my mom too. And my dad..."

That caused Carl to perk up, and turn to her with a look of confusion, "You mean... Lacey, and-,"

"No. But I did lose her too. I meant my real parents. They were eaten by walkers. I saw it." she explained as if she were simply talking about her day so far and not a traumatic, life changing event, "I think... the reason I was able to get away is because the monsters were so busy eating them. They did it to save me..."

Carl's fingers twitched on his knee, unsure, but ultimately he brought his hand over to Erin's in her lap. She looked up and smiled hesitantly, "It's okay to feel sad, and mad...and scared. That's how I felt, but then I found you guys. And you're my family now, and I know that you'll always keep me safe, just like my real mommy and daddy did... It will get better." she smiled a little brighter, "That's all I wanted to say. And sorry. But I already said that..." a blush tickled her cheeks as she dipped her head down, smile still stretching across her face.

Beth, who'd kept quiet during the conversation between the children, shot a glance over her shoulder toward her father, a grin on her mouth that he mirrored.

Carl smirked, and let out a brief chuckle, "Thanks."

They both snapped toward the sound of careful, even steps coming from the corridor, leading to the gate. Hershel and Beth looked up too when Rick pushed the gate open and entered the common area. He went straight toward Hershel who was cradling Baby Grimes. Everything about him screaming desperate and hesitant. But still Hershel helped him to get his daughter properly into his hands for the first time.

He held her in front of him for a moment, just looking at her, taking in all her little features, and he chuckled softly, the pin pricks of tears were at the back of his eyes as she weakly squirmed in his grasp. He held her to him, closely, and lead them all outside. Out into the yard- clear of bodies again. In the sunshine he laughed and told Carl she looked like him.

Casting a glance along the gate, among the dead that constantly stumbled along the perimeter, Rick noticed there was something else, something different- He passed the baby off to his son and walked down to the dog run, hand rested on the handle of his gun.

Where bodies piled up against the fence daily and nightly without fail, such as they did now- snarling, growling, clawing, shoving as he drew closer- there stood one body different from the rest. A seemingly healthy, if not completely worn out body. A woman, with pleading eyes, and a red shopping basket filled with groceries clutched in hand.

.

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After a quick visit to the infirmary Merle was at the Governor's door. Merle with his nose taped and the Governor dressed in just a robe, they spoke in hushed voices. Merle described the events of the day, four deaths in total. They'd give a heroes service for the fallen guardsmen of Woodbury, but as for Michonne, the Governor asked where her head was, as well as her sword. His prizes, his ultimate trophy. To add to his sick collection.

Merle went through with his lie easily, and quickly added, when the Governor's expression took on an aggravated display, that though he'd lost the head and blade he had something else for him.

"Guy I used to know from the Atlanta camp and his pretty little girlfriend."

"They know Andrea?"

Merle hummed in affirmation.

"What about-," the Governor's words fell short when Keenan's cries pierced the air paired with frantic breaths and stomps. He braced a hand against the bricks, half stooped as he fought to catch his breath standing a couple feet away from the men.

"Governor!" he wheezed in desperation.

"Not now, Grady." the Governor dismissed him, but Keenan still struggled through panting. Pleading.

"Sir, this is serious. I can't find-,"

Dr. Stevens came from the other side of the hall, not at all the mess Keenan was, "Merle, I meant to ask you where Lacey's been all day. She never came by the infirmary-,"

Keenan bursted again, half way under control of his speech, still capable of cutting off anyone with his louder, anxious, accented voice, "Her bed is empty, some of her clothes are missing, her boots aren't anywhere in the-,"

Merle straightened and brought his arm fitted with the apparatus up in a threatening motion, "What the hell were you doin' in my house?!"

The Irishman waved his hands out in front of him, brows pinched together, "You're missing the point, Dixon! Lacey is gone!"

There was a brief pause where he made sure to let that sink in, made sure everyone understood his panic before he continued, "And you gave her those sleep aides in her tea, like usual, yeah? So where is she?"

"How do you know about that?" Dr. Stevens' expression had pulled into confusion as she stepped toward Keenan, she swung her gaze back to Merle and the Governor, "Why does he know that?" She expected Merle to explode with something, anything, at this new information. The decision to start feeding Lacey sleep inducing drugs (unbeknownst to her, of course- god only knew what fresh hell that would bring if she were aware of what they were doing to her) to mellow her out so she was less of a threat to the town and its inhabitants, and herself, had been made five months ago, between the doctor, the Governor and Merle. So how had Keenan come into that knowledge?

But Merle seemed only stunned, eyes taking on that thousand yard stare as he recalled the events from the past 24 hours, "I... I gave her a double dose last night... I expected her to sleep in some, but..." He'd only given a passing glance through the open doorway when he'd returned from the fights, seeing what appeared to be Lacey's form immersed in deep sleep. The double dosage, that's why he hadn't woken her up the next morning, or even spared another glance into her room to notice that something was off. She'd been gone the whole time... How long had she been planning it? Why would she-? How-? How could she...

"But she managed to somehow escape..." the Governor sighed, "Probably some time during the fights... Doped up on sleeping pills, all on her own..." he paused when he saw the deepening frown on his comrade's face, he brought a hand to drop on his shoulder, "Merle... I'm sorry-,"

Merle dodged the touch, "Don't."

Dr. Stevens looked to the Governor, then to Keenan before she ventured slowly, looking at Merle, "Sh-she might come back-,"

"Don't. Later..." Merle said, verbalizing a promise to himself that- yes, he would take care of it later. He'd find her. He'd find her with deathly pale tinged skin, the beginning of decomposition, the smell of rot falling away from her in stomach churning waves, eyes with an animalistic hunger in them he wouldn't recognize, eyes that wouldn't recognize him, and he'd end it. He'd end it before she could even open her mouth to growl at him and lurch toward him.

But at that moment- "We got other shit to worry about now... From the looks of our new guests they're set up pretty good, and I'm gonna find out where..."

Merle walked away, leaving the three in the hall in silence.

.

.

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* * *

Note: ... what...

Where THE FUCK is Lacey!?

godDAMNIT! This is why we can't have nice things, Lacey!

Parts of this chapter were inspired by Shiny Toy Guns song Ghost Town.

In the last chapter I forgot to say my thanks, SO DOUBLE THANKS to my cheerleader and beta XM, her constant encouragements really help me through this grueling process. Double thanks to Rexi for that same reason. As well as those who leave reviews.

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING!


	10. Chapter 10

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Michonne pressed her hand against the still throbbing, slow bleeding wound, her fingers coming away saturated anew with red, clutching around the chain links of the fence. It was the fresh scent of blood on her hand that caught the surrounding walkers attentions, not even the guts and juices soaked into her top could block the smell. The walkers right beside her craned their vision away from the morsel within the gates to land on her, all at once realizing that food was just within their grasp.

She dropped the basket and hopped away, the stinging of the bullet graze too much to even lean the smallest amount of pressure on that leg. She pulled her sword from its hold and fought off the walkers quickly closing in on her. She was woozy, suffering from blood loss, and was completely exhausted- it showed in her sloppy movements, her stumbling strikes and slices.

.

Rick looked on, not about to move to aide or rescue her, not really sure what exactly he _should_ do with her. How had she known to come here? Why did she have that basket full of formula? He could hear Carl running down the dirt road toward him, pulling open the gate to the dog run and looking on as the woman crumbled to the ground.

.

The edges of her vision darkened with each blink and it was becoming harder and harder to breathe. Her pulse pounded like a heavy bass in her ears, as she saw the image of walkers stumbling toward her. They'd be piling on top of her soon, and she probably wouldn't feel a thing.

.

The decision to intervene and help her was ultimately made by Carl shooting the two walkers about to drop on her and dig in. Two head shots, sending limbs flailing and falling backwards, completely dead before they even hit the ground.

Rick called for the keys and opened the gate, cursing under his breath as he pulled his gun from his hip and fired shot after shot as walkers started to gather with haste in their shuffle. Carl went for the shopping basket. Rick dropped down to the passed out woman, nudging the sword further away from where it had fallen from her grip and checked the common areas for walkers to sink their teeth into. Hershel called from behind the fence asking if she was bit or not.

"Gun shot." Rick said when he recognized the familiar way the skin on her thigh was ripped through. Just a graze, but enough to cause a considerable amount of pain and bleeding. He hefted her over his shoulder and with the gate secured again they all rushed back inside the prison.

Setting down a blanket on the floor and fetching a towel and some water, Rick set the strange woman down. Sophia rushed in from the block, Erin on her heels, the girls wondered what happened, they'd heard gunshots and- who was that? He explained that she wasn't coming into the cell block with them - at least, not until they got some answers.

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Michonne felt a cool moisture splashed along her chest and pooling in the hollow of her throat, and flinched at the feeling. Coming back to her senses, she blinked the darkness and blur away from her eyes and took in her surroundings. The interior of the prison, the man she'd seen through the gate was above her, shushing her, using a soft voice, "It's alright, it's alright. Look at me."

And she looked. His eyes seemed much older than the rest of him. They revealed how fatigued he truly was, and told that he had seen far too much than he rightfully wanted.

"Who are you? Hey... It's alright," he said, thinking that Michonne was just scared and confused, but when she saw her sword and made to grab for it he pinned her down while shoving the sheathed blade away with his foot, "Hey-!"

His soft demeanor disappeared, a low warning in his voice now, "We're not gonna hurt you, unless you try somethin' stupid first. Alright?"

She stared up at him, unsure. The last time her weapon was taken from her it was in the clutches of a mad man. But this guy didn't seem so bad, seemed like he knew the world for exactly what it was - he was surviving just to survive. He didn't have a thirst for power, he didn't even want to be the leader of his group, he had no front to hide behind... But how was she to know if he wasn't exactly like the Governor? Just as crazy, just as-

"Rick..." a voice called lowly, and Michonne could see another guy enter the room, she could see all who were in the room. 'Rick', that gruff dude that just came in, a boy with a cowboy hat that had a Sheriff's emblem on it, three girls, two of them younger than the other, and an old man on crutches. The gravelly voiced man spoke again, nodded toward her, "Who the hell is this?"

Rick looked back to her, "You wanna tell us your name?" Michonne didn't even blink, and Rick tried again, softer this time, "You wanna tell us your name?" But she couldn't trust these people just as much as they couldn't trust her.

"Come on in here." the guy jerked his head in the direction from where he came from.

"Is everything alright?" Rick asked, looking like he couldn't handle another disaster, or hardship, no matter how small.

The guy just replied with, "You're gonna wanna see this."

Rick sighed and nodded toward the others, "Go ahead." the girl and the old man with crutches walked toward the open gate way and went through. "Carl, get the bag." Rick said and the boy, 'Carl', did so. He took Michonne's bag and put the strap on his shoulder. He grabbed the shopping basket too, nodding to the two other girls, and they walked through the gate way.

Rick stood up, taking Michonne's sword with him. The gruff guy near the gate looked on as Rick told her, "We'll keep this safe and sound." referring to her katana, "The doors are all locked. You'll be safe here. And we can treat that." he gestured to her leg.

Michonne breathed through her nose, eyes glancing all around before she looked up to Rick, "I didn't ask for your help."

"Doesn't matter." he shook his head and turned, walking into the cell block as he added, "Can't let you leave."

The gruff guy went through the gate and locked it after him, and Michonne didn't get up until she saw him walk away toward where ever the rest of the group had gone.

With her hands circled around the bars she saw the group interact. They were a small group of survivors, and very close it appeared. At the sight of a dirt, sweat covered and severely exhausted woman they were almost reduced to tears, one of the girls exlaimed loudly with a sob, 'Mom?! Mommy!' and clung onto her tightly. Each of them hugged the woman, mumbling quiet thanks and welcomes.

"Poor thing fought her way into a cell. Passed out and dehydrated."

Then they really _were_ reduced to tears when the woman saw the baby in the blonde girl's arms. She looked to Rick and tearfully mumbled what Michonne was sure was her apologies. Rick and Carl appeared the most upset of all of them. There was a story there, but she didn't delve deeper into it.

It was different from Woodbury - these people were different from the people of Woodbury. These people weren't corrupt, they weren't psychotic- probably. These people knew loss, knew the struggle and the fight, and through it all they were a family of survivors.

Michonne's fingers fell away from the bars and she stumbled toward a table. At one point she thought she had people she could've considered family- Andrea and Sam. Sam had left, but she was sure she was perfectly fine out there on her own with Rocket protecting her. Andrea had abandoned her though. And then Lacey... she lost her for a second time, captured by the same people again...

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"I think that's it!" Sam called from down the corridor of cells, her voice echoing off the walls. And if that wasn't it, then her voice would surely bring those they'd missed. But none came, after a full minute of waiting they were still left in silence. Exhausted.

"Should we head back now?" Amy asked in a puff of breath, retying her hair up into a pony tail.

"Yeah." Jo nodded, looking all around them. Sam was plucking her arrows from skulls and cleaning them off as she approached them. "We'll count how many we have and tomorrow or another day we'll drag them out." Jo said, "How many did you get down there around the corner, Mimi?"

Sam withheld a sigh, "Four." she said through clenched teeth.

Jo just grinned and started to count each body they passed or stepped over, until they could walk freely without corpse-y obstructions in their path. "How 'bout a story?" he offered, grin still in place.

.

Rick, his studly counterpart, Carl, who was probably Rick's son (they shared a few similar features), and the old man on crutches came back into the common area when the boy unlocked the gate. "We can tend to that wound for you." Rick said as he approached Michonne where she was seated at one of the tables. "Give you a little food and water and then send you on your way. But you're gonna have to tell us how you found us. And why you were carryin' formula."

Michonne looked each of them over before she answered, "The supplies were dropped by a young asian guy... with a pretty girl."

And that appeared to mean something to them, when they each stiffened in posture and Rick countered with a, "What happened?" And the old man with a worry laced, "Were they attacked?"

"They were taken." Michonne kept the small towel pressed carefully to her leg, looking away from the men and boy.

"Taken- by who?" Rick asked, stepping forward a pace.

"By the same son of a bitch who shot me." Michonne grumbled venomously.

"Hey- these are our people. You tell us what happened- now!" Rick surged forward and jabbed his thumb against her wound through the towel. And that just wouldn't do. Michonne shot up, shoving him away.

"Don't you ever touch me again!" she shouted, eyes aflame as she glared at Rick.

"Better start talkin' or you'll have a bigger problem than a gunshot wound." the gruff guy had a crossbow level with her face. She looked up the sights at him, squinting with an unimpressed sneer.

She replied, "Find 'em yourself."

Rick tutted his man, "Put it down..." he lay his hand on top of the weapon and eased it down, "You came here for a reason..." he said to Michonne. And they could all see the conflict on her features for a moment before she spoke again.

"There's a town- Woodbury. 'Bout 75 survivors. I think they were taken there." she explained.

Rick seemed just as if not more aghast than the rest, "A whole town?'"

"It's run by this guy, calls himself _The Governor_... Pretty boy, charming, Jim Jones type." malice in her tone, she knew it was her fault Lacey was stuck in that hell hole, _again_. Sure, she had Merle to protect her, but apparently he was in on what they were doing to her, something to do with that schedule and 'putting her out', what ever it was. And Merle couldn't really protect her when he was loyal to the Governor. Who knew what sort of shit the suave psycho was doing to her now, after she escaped and was brought back to his town.

"He got muscle?" that gravelly voice somehow seemed familiar.

"Military wannabes." Michonne answered, "They have armed sentries on every wall."

"You know a way in." Rick knew she did, otherwise why would she be here. She probably had an angle, he thought, she couldn't be this noble without some hidden agenda, but that didn't matter. Two of their people were captured and with this woman's help they could get them back.

"Place is secure from walkers but we could slip our way through." she nodded.

"How'd you know how to get here?" Rick raised his other previous question.

"They mentioned a prison." Michonne shrugged, "Said which direction it was in, said it was a straight shot."

And Rick nodded. All questions answered, all information out there, he needed to talk with his people. Then he'd decide what they should do. He motioned to the old man, "This is Hershel, father of the girl who was taken. He'll take care of that." he eyed her uncovered wound and swept out of the room with the crossbowman on his heels. The boy stayed behind by direction. And the old man spoke softly and got to work with gentle hands.

.

.

Glenn and Maggie were taken to a vacant warehouse once Hershel's truck passed through Woodbury's gates. In a quiet manner, their hands were bound and weapons stripped from them as they were escorted to the warehouse, so as not to raise suspicion among the townspeople. With duct tape wrapped tightly around their wrists and secured to the chairs they were seated in they were made to wait, terrified out of their minds and circulation to their hands cut off, while Merle went to speak to the Governor.

They were separated, of course, but when Merle came back to talk to Glenn, Maggie could hear every word passing through the vents. She could hear the man who was supposedly Daryl's brother taunt Glenn, make him feel guilty about leaving him on the roof in Atlanta, saying that people wouldn't do something like that to an animal. Leaving him trapped there, boiling in the heat, and an easy snack for walkers. Forcing him to have to cut off his own hand with a saw blade so he could survive, so he could keep on living in this fucked up world.

Glenn spoke for their defense that they had gone back for him; Rick, Daryl, Ben, Jo, T-Dog, but he was already gone. He'd heard the same story from Lacey and Andrea. He believed it, at least he was more inclined to believe it, when Lacey had told him. Her explanation didn't sound anything like a plea, much like the other two had. Not only that, he actually liked Lacey, and her family wasn't bad either, but what really sold him was how thrilled she was to see him, so glad that he was still alive. He didn't exactly get the warm and fuzzies vibe from Andrea. And Glenn? He and his girlfriend had pulled their guns out on first sight of him, and even after Glenn recognized him and Merle had put his firearm down -the one in his hand at least- Glenn still didn't let up on his aim.

Glenn had been a part of the group that had left him there in Atlanta, so of course he was bitter. How could he not be? He wondered where the old gang was at, Sheriff Leave-'Em-All-Behind, who'd chained him up in the first place, but he wondered of T-Dog most of all, the one who'd dropped the key to his freedom. And when Glenn confessed that T hadn't made it, Merle hoped that when he went it was slow.

He wondered about his baby brother. Now that he'd lost his brother's wife it was back to how it was at the start, all he had was Daryl. He told Glenn that he couldn't just give the information that his brother was alive and then hold off on where he was. Teasing like that. It wasn't right.

But Glenn wouldn't fess up. Not even when Merle made the threat that he'd visit the farmer's daughter, that maybe she'd tell him what he wanted to know. But it was clear that mere words weren't going to shake him up, and giving intimidation a try Merle was rewarded by the wound on the bridge of his nose breaking open again and gushing along with a renewed burst of pain.

It was the wrong move- on Glenn's part. Even if he wasn't bound to a chair he could never take on Merle Dixon. So after Merle recovered, very quickly, from the headbutt Glenn had dealt, he was given one back. And he tried not to cry out as he took punch after punch, strike after strike, all while Merle shouted at him, demanding to know where the hell they were. Where was the rest of the group.

Merle eventually let up. He had to, otherwise Glenn wouldn't have the ability to talk if he decided to finally tell him where his camp was.

He caught himself as he spoke of Rick's habit of leaving people behind, nearly letting it slip that Lacey had been here, and now Andrea was too. But Glenn hadn't heard the almost stutter as he spat out a mouth full of blood and stated it would only be a matter of time before they would come looking for him.

"I'll bake a cake, with pink frosting. Would they like that?" Merle snarked back before he stated evenly, "Ain't nobody comin'."

But Glenn was so sure, "Rick is. And when he gets here-,"

"He's gonna do nothin'." Merle finished for him, "Not if he wants you and Bo Peep back. Think I'm in this by myself?"

"You can't take us all. There's too many of us." Glenn said, his voice still thick with blood, his face swollen and bleeding- inside and out.

Merle snorted low in his throat, "There ain't a pair of nuts between the whole pussy lot of ya."

"We've been on the road!" Glenn raised his voice, his eyes connecting with Merle's though one was nearly swollen shut he tried to make his gaze unafraid and unwavering, "Not hiding in some dungeon. Rick, Shane, Amy, Jo, Dale, Jim, Ben, Rob, Lacey, Andrea..."

It was the final two names that caused a grin to spread across Merle's mouth. He'd known of Ben and Rob's demise by Lacey's telling, and though she didn't offer anything else in much detail as to what had happened since their departure from the Atlanta camp Merle could gather that Glenn had just named most, if not all, of their dead, with two wrongly (well, two until yesterday) presumed dead.

Though he was still going to keep to his promise with Lacey, thanks to Glenn's careless reminder, he couldn't help the way his grin stretched further, catching Glenn in his lie, causing the boy's courageous gaze to diminish and falter.

He hummed, amusement almost tinting his tone, "Really? Is that right?"

.

.

Carl was entrusted to watch over Michonne while Hershel stitched up her leg. Though she didn't have her weapon she was still considered dangerous. He kept his hand hovered above his gun, just like he'd witness his father do so many times before. His eyes were piercing and unrelenting as he watched on. He heard and saw, from his peripheral vision, Erin peeking through the gate to get a look at Michonne.

Michonne could feel her curious gaze and met her eyes, and tried not to react when girl visibly jumped when Carl said her name in warning. She squeaked an apology and scurried away.

When Hershel was finished, her wound neatly stitched closed, Michonne thanked him quietly and cautiously.

.

Erin ran back to the group just as Oscar was asking, "How do you know we can trust her?"

Daryl had his arms crossed so Erin tapped his elbow to capture his attention, he looked down at the girl before he picked her up, while Beth stepped forward, demanding in her normally soft, weak voice, "This is _Maggie and Glenn_. Why are we even debatin'?"

"We ain't. I'll go after 'em." Daryl said with Erin settled in his arms. She had her arms circled loosely around his neck, fingers laced together while she leaned and angled her head in the direction of the common area, anxious to get a look at the new lady again.

"This place sounds pretty secure. You can't go alone." Rick said.

Beth didn't hesitate, "I'll go."

"Me too." Axel stepped up beside her.

Rick nodded, and looked to Oscar as he stepped forward too, "I'm in."

"I will too." Erin added as she swung her gaze back around to the group.

Rick nodded again, his mouth tilting slightly, "Alright."

And then from behind them, slowly emerging from the depths of the prison, they could hear voices. Specifically Jo's voice as he was animatedly telling a story, his tale sounding louder and clearer the closer they neared the block.

"- this was after Robbie's many attempts to sneakily assimilate pets into the house, right? And so Ben says," Jo paused to take on a deeper tone and cant in his voice, and in a whispered shout he recited, "'_We don't need any animals in this house! I already clean up enough piss around the house as it is, __**Joseph**_!' And I threw my hands up like," he put his hands up in a surrendering motion and Sam and Amy's quiet laughter could be heard, "And I said, '_That was one time man! And at least it wasn't on the carpet_!' And by then Rob's already checked out, gone to his room, in a huff. And Lace is down for the count, she's falling off the couch, clutching her stomach- can't even properly laugh, just wheezing, she's totally gone. All of this because Robbie tried to introduce a raccoon into the family as a pet. It was so-," by then the three, along with Rocket, had stepped through the gate threshold and into the cell block right into the little group centralized around the bottom of the stairs. They all came to a halt, in complete shock. Tears sprang to Amy's eyes and Sam was laughing in happy disbelief. Jo finally spoke up for all of them, "Holy shit, Carol?!"

Rocket surged up the steps and snuffled at Carol's arms and legs, careful of the baby in her arms, she licked a stripe up Carol's cheek.

Carol just chuckled, "Hey, Jo." They'd all been chuckling, having heard Jo's story, but that, his reaction, just topped it.

Jo went up the steps next and plopped down beside Sophia who was seated next to her mother, hugged his arms around both of them, while he dramatically said, "You're a cat, you're an agile cat, Carol. Nine lives!"

Sam was about to join the bunch, to welcome Carol back and then ask why everyone had been having what appeared to be a group meeting when something caught her eye. "Wha..." she saw the sheathed sword leaning against the outside wall of a cell, "Where did you get that?" There was no mistaking that sheath, that sword-

Everyone's laughter died down at Sam's peeked interest at the new weapon, confusion in her tone, but something else in it too. Then Rocket was scurrying down the steps away from Carol and Jo, sniffing at the air, complete concentration on her doggie features until she finally bolted toward the common area.

And Sam was quick to follow, she dropped her bow along the way as she mumbled, "Oh, my god. Oh, my f-! Oh, my god!"

"Sam! Stop!" she heard Rick shout along with the others calling for her, but she didn't stop, she couldn't because-

"Michonne? Michonne!" she was almost hysterical as she screamed her name and skidded into the common area, by passing Carl and his warnings and almost tripped to a halt in front of the slowly sitting up woman. "Oh, my god!" she breathed and dove in to wrap her arms around her.

"Sam? Is that you? What the hell are you doing here?" Michonne dropped her voice into a whisper, bringing an arm around the teen and squeezing her tight to her, "Are these people holding you here, too?"

"What? Holding me-?" Sam questioned as she pulled away and looked at Michonne, taking note of the freshly stitched together flesh peeking out through a hole in her pants, and Hershel making his way away, "What-, no! These are _my_ people." she gestured vaguely toward the open gate just as the rest of the survivors were all starting to pile in. Daryl transferred Erin into Jo's arms and went forward with Rick, closing in on the two women. "The ones I told you about. The ones I said I was going to find? In my note? Remember?" she grinned, "I found them."

Michonne recalled names such as Daryl, Jo, Ben and Rob. She might have mentioned a Rick and a Lori at one point or another, but- The kid had actually done it.

"Huh," Michonne smirked smally, "I remember you writing something else in your note about coming back to find me once you found them."

Sam flushed slightly, her grin vanishing as she chuckled awkwardly, "I..." she dragged out the word, scratching at the back of her neck and ruffling the hair on the back of her head, "was working on it."

Michonne huffed a short, quiet chuckle.

"Sammy." Rick's voice called, stern, serious, warning.

Sam just waved him off, "It's cool, I know her."

"Sam-," that was his 'Dad Voice' again, and it caused Sam to scoff, turn to him and with her attitude '_Ohmygod-Dad-stop-Get-out-of-my-room-we're-talking_!' a teenager-esque response was anticipated. But she didn't say that, close to it though, she replied, "She's my friend, I swear she's totally fine. She's who I was with the whole time before I found you guys." then spun back to Michonne, "Saved me a trip out into the open world again, but lemme tell you, don't let the peeling, cracking, dismal grey painted bricks and leaky pipes fool you, it ain't all as glamourous as it seems." she snorted obnoxiously, scoffing too, making the mock of idle conversation even more bizarre and ridiculous. Michonne didn't react- forced herself not to.

"_She's_ who you were with?" Daryl repeated, and something in the way he said it apparently didn't rub Michonne right and she narrowed his eyes his way.

"Yes. She's the one I told you about. Remember? Sword fighting with Lacey?" Sam said as she turned back to her group, standing up, stepping toward them. A conscious or unconscious move acting as a barrier between them and her friend.

"I guess that means we can trust her now..." Oscar grumbled quietly.

"Sam," Michonne mumbled, putting a hand on her arm, and the solemnity in her voice forced Sam legs to lock. That tone of her voice was reserved for certain situation, either there was a threat ahead and she needed to shut her trap, or she had to shut her trap while Michonne laid down some heavy information on her. She turned and looked to the woman who was sitting fully up right and appearing far more grim faced than before. "There's something you should know- All of you should know, I guess."

Sam asked what just as Rick had responded, "What else?"

"It's about..." Michonne sighed, that feeling of defeat just as fresh as her wound, but the feeling couldn't be stitched up, it just weighed cumbersome on her heart and mind, "It's about Lacey."

"What?! What the hell-?!" Daryl erupted and rushed forward, but was stopped when Sam placed her hands against his chest and Jo, who'd passed Erin off to Amy, grabbed his shoulder as he came forward.

"Woah! Be still, bro. Calm! No need for anger or violence..." Sam shushed his hostile grumblings, then breathed a quiet, 'maybe', off to the side.

"What about Lacey?" Jo gently asked, though on the inside he was bursting at the seams, wanting to strike and scream out. What about his sister who was long dead, what could she possibly know?

"You didn't-," Sam gulped, looking back to Michonne -but kept an arm out in front of Daryl, a precaution- swallowing the lump that suddenly formed in her throat, the idea- "You didn't find her... her, uh... as a-," she couldn't even speak it, but Michonne was quick to quash the word before it could be formed on Sam's tongue.

"No! No... She's alive." she said.

Silence filled the room, everyone shocked into awe of what Michonne had just revealed. After all this time, after what they believed. Even after what Sam had finally conceded... She was still alive. She hadn't died, she wasn't a walker, she was still alive!

"The last time I saw her, at least... Which was probably close to two hours ago..." Michonne added slowly, but it didn't seem to make a difference to the people in the room. Because they knew the Lacey they remembered, they didn't know the Lacey she'd become, the Lacey that was struggling with her sanity, who'd been confined within the walls of Woodbury for so long, and put on some kind of schedule that was still festering in the back of Michonne's mind like a throbbing infection. What were they doing to her, why were they doing it, did she know? She couldn't know... Could she? No... Though that would probably give her more motivation to run away. Maybe she did know, maybe she found out, but they hadn't spent enough time together for her to explain what was going on. Regardless- "I'm sure they caught up with her in the woods, she created a diversion for me, tried to lead them away from... from me... And they brought her back. She'll be there too, we'll need to get her, unless the Governor's gotten to her..."

Michonne looked just to Sam as she said, "They're the same people that took her the first time, it's where she's been the whole time... They wouldn't let her go. They were-,"

She stopped talking when Daryl made a hasty retreat from the room. And with quiet enveloping the room again -the entire prison- as everyone watched him go, the hushed, sweet sounds of a little voice could be heard from the cell block, a small voice calling for their daddy.

"Should I...?" Jo ventured with a thumb tossed over his shoulder.

Sam shook her head, "I should." she looked back to Michonne, "Hold that thought, please." she mumbled then turned back to Jo and gestured between him and the woman, "Get acquainted." and then she was sprinting into the cell block.

She could hear Honey's voice mumbling gibberish, but she wasn't in Amy and Jo's cell where she'd been peacefully napping. She searched through each cell, on both levels until she followed the voice and finally found both the baby girl and Daryl on the second level outside walk way. He had his back against the chain links of the fence, knees up and Honey seated in his lap, talking nonsense to him and administering those tiny hand touches of comfort. But they proved ill effective on him.

Sam took a seat by his knees so she could see his face, gauge his emotions, but she didn't say a word.

He'd speak if he wanted to, she wouldn't force it out of him. He'd had the patience to wait for her, so she'd pay him the same courtesy.

Eventually Honey gave up with her jumbled words and just leaned forward, resting her head against his chest, little fists clenching in the fabric of his shirt.

The three sat in silence. Daryl with that thousand yard stare in his eyes, Honey just slumped against his chest, and Sam sat with her legs criss crossed close to them. It had to be near ten minutes later, though it felt much longer, when he finally spoke, a huff of a sigh preluding it. His hand slid roughly against the harsh cement of the gated walkway, moving toward Sam, and she quickly met his hand with hers. Snatching it up from the cement and holding it between her own, his fingers curled around hers.

"The whole time." he rasped. "The whole goddamn time. She's been alive. I can't believe I-, I really thought that she-," he was shaking his head, and tilted his face skyward. A frown on his mouth, he squeezed his eyes shut, "And some assholes've been keepin' her, and..." he made a choked off noise, "Who knows what they've been doin'-,"

His free hand formed into a fist and pounded into the rocky cement beneath them, splitting the skin of his knuckles into tiny cuts. And Honey flinched, whimpering, clutching her fingers a little tighter into his shirt, nuzzling her face deeper into his chest. His hand throbbed dully, specks of blood going no further than that, as he uncurled his hand and rested it against Honey's back.

"She's strong." Sam uttered quietly.

"Why couldn't she leave, why wouldn't she do that? What were they doin'-, What was stoppin' her from tryin' to get back? She's a smart girl, she could've figured out loads of differ'nt ways to get away. I-, why would-," he couldn't form a complete sentence, so many thoughts were rushing through his mind, jumbling together, unfiltered as they tumbled from his mouth.

"I'm sure there were reasons. Because you're right, she is smart. But listen," Sam said, scooting closer to him, "Are you listening?"

He moved his gaze to actually look at her and gave a short nod.

"We know where she is, and we're gonna get her back. Today." she said, mature and steady, without a doubt in her tone, "Right?"

He looked at Sam, then to Honey who had pulled her face away from his chest to look up at him curiously, probably confused about who they were talking about. It was so strange to see so much of Lacey in both of them, and Erin too, and none of them shared any features or blood. But they shared her mannerisms, learned her expressions, and they loved her just as much as Daryl or Jo or Rick did. They were part of the family she'd created... and it wasn't whole without her... They were going to get her back, though. Today, like Sam said. That was for damn sure.

"Right."

.

.

Maggie had yet to be visited, but all the time she had plenty to listen to - Glenn getting beaten, Merle's and Glenn's exchanged words. All the while she was trying not to cry, trying not to call out for him.

She almost broke when she heard Merle come back to Glenn's captivity room. His voice was louder - he was talking over the sound of growls and snarls. Her heart almost stopped in her chest.

"Alright!" she heard Merle say, "I want you to imagine how I felt. Fightin' my way off that roof- one handed, losing blood, walkers chompin' at me every step of the way. Last chance! Where's your group?"

There was silence, aside from the adamant walker, and no response from Glenn. She wouldn't doubt he was shocked into silence by Merle's scare tactic, but even then he wouldn't give up the their location at the prison.

"Alright- suit yourself. You're a pretty big snack for this fella, but you know what they say- he's gonna be hungry again in an hour!"

The door slammed and she could hear it all.

Glenn's desperate struggles, crashing. Futile sounds from Glenn and determined sounds from the walker...

But somehow, she heard, the walker became silent, and then Glenn's crow of despair and triumph. He was still alive, but what good was that when they were trapped, captive, by these people. These people who were just as much of monsters as the walkers were. It was apparent that times and ways were different than they were in the beginning. At the start they had feared the dead and sought the living. But now, they feared the living and fought the dead.

.

.

"Got the flashbangs, I got the tear gas. Never know what you're gonna need." Daryl grumbled as he opened up the back of the SUV, he and Oscar put their packs in, guns, ammo, water. Sam and Carl walked over and brought the rest for them. Daryl clapped a hand on Carl's shoulder upon seeing the boy's sullen expression. Having lost his mom and temporarily losing his dad (he was about leave _again)_, he was worried, there was no hiding it, no matter how tough a front he put up. "Don't you worry about your old man. I'll keep my eye on him." Daryl assured him, Carl gave a nod of understanding and thanks and walked back up into the yard, answering to his father's call.

"Goddamnit, sis. If I have to give your bag back to you for a third time..." Daryl's scold trailed off as pulled the teen's bag from amidst the pile of bags and weapons in the trunk and put hers back into her arms, ignoring the dejected stance she put on.

"I still insist that this is complete bull- _malarkey_. I wanna go too." she'd spiffed up her word choice when he shot her a look from the corner of his eye as they walked back into the yard.

"You're not goin'. You're stayin' here. That's the end of it." Daryl stated and went back into the block.

Sam let out an irritable huff and sat on the black top with her bag in her lap. Rocket took a seat next to her and she raised a hand to scratch between the dog's ears. Inadvertently she caught the end of the conversation Rick and Carl shared, Baby Grimes finally had a proper name other than Baby Grimes or Asskicker. She was Judith. Judith Grimes. And just as Rick had said, what a fine name it was.

By the time Daryl emerged from the cell block again Erin, Sophia and Honey were seated with Rocket and Sam in her cloud of mope-ry. He scoffed out a snort, "Look out for each other."

"Yeah, yeah." Sam grumbled and gave him a floppy salute, but the instant his back turned that obnoxious gesture turned into a one fingered salute. The girls snickered and Sam dropped her hand and feigned bored innocence when Daryl looked over his shoulder.

He turned back to Carol who had Judith in her arms, he flickered his gaze over both of them, "Stay safe."

"Nine lives, remember?" Carol smirked.

Michonne and Oscar were already settled in back seat of the SUV. Daryl took the passengers seat and Rick pulled open the drivers side door. Hershel, Beth and Jo stood on the dirt road next to the car, nodding toward the group about to depart.

"Bring 'em back. All of 'em." Hershel said.

Rick gave a nod, eyeing Jo particularly. Jo had wanted so badly to go, but Rick needed him to stay behind and take care of the group with Carl. He wanted to rescue his sister for once, wanted to return the favor after all the times she'd saved him. But he trusted Daryl to bring her back - he knew he would bring her back.

Maggie, Glenn and Lacey. They'd bring them all back.

.

.

"So. They know Andrea and Lacey." the Governor addressed Merle and Martinez in front of him. The three of them were concealed among a number of army vehicles parked by the warehouse. Better to keep the public unaware and out of the loop for now.

Merle nodded, "But they don't know Andrea is here, or that Lacey _was_ here." both men noticed the way he'd mentioned Lacey wasn't only in sadness and disappointment, but also in anger.

"But they do know your brother." the Governor responded.

"He does." Merle nodded again, "But I don't know about her, I've never see her before."

"Their people may come for them."

"Maybe." Merle shrugged, "The kid and Andrea both say they went back for me."

"So what, he won't break, say where his people are?"

The answer to the Governor's query came in the form a head shake.

"He's a tough son of a bitch. Picked that walker apart in minutes." Martinez added.

"Maybe a winter in the sticks put some hair on his balls." Merle snarked back.

"We'll need him for leverage if his people come. What'd you try to kill him for?"

"He pissed me off." Merle rasped in an irritable tone, and that was enough for Martinez back off, but snort in amusement too.

"What'd the girl say?" the Governor asked, not forgetting their other warehouse occupant.

"I was just about to go talk to her next." Merle sighed.

"I'll take care of it." the leader waved him off.

"Crazy girl would'a come in handy in all this. She was part of their group before? They probably would've trusted her." Martinez said.

"But she didn't trust us." The Governor noted, his forehead crinkled like how it usually did when he was annoyed, "I can't even imagine what sort of shit she'd try..."

"Speakin' of _her_. Think I might go out before curfew and-,"

But the Governor halted Merle's thought before he could finish, "No. I need you here." he was starting for the warehouse, ending the discussion, and any arguments Merle could've made were stuck on his tongue as the Governor walked away. He paused long enough to say, "She's a biter now anyway, she's not goin' anywhere you won't be able to find her."

And the gravity of his task felt a little heavier in his gut. And though he wished for a hint of delicacy concerning what had happened and what he needed to do, there wasn't really any reason for it. This sort of thing happened all the time, and it was only a matter of time before it happened to someone he cared about. Though he hadn't expected it to happen so soon... but he still wouldn't let her wander out there like that, he almost couldn't bare the thought of it.

.

The nice guy tactic wouldn't work with Maggie, that was evident by the way she was so tight lipped, unbelieving and unshaken. Even after the Governor had been so kind in cutting her free from her binds, she knew he wasn't a truly nice man- if he was affiliated with Daryl's brother? No way.

It was a process of trial and error with different strategies, just like with Glenn. Good guy went away and next up was intimidation, and simple threats. The Governor wanted her to know that he was in charge, that she and Glenn weren't guests in his home- though they could be (for a limited time). But they weren't cooperating. If they would just give up where the rest of their group was camped at this whole mess could just blow over and be done with. But even with Maggie stripped of her shirt and bra she wouldn't break. She kept her arms crossed over her chest. Then the Governor stood and removed his gun belt before walking over to her. Standing, nestled right beside her, uncomfortably close. He watched her flinch and bite her lip to keep from making a sound, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

And she wouldn't be spared from violence just because she was a woman.

The grip on the back of her neck was tight and unforgiving, and she'd cried out when her face and torso slammed into the hard surface of the table. The fact was that the Governor figured she would be much more easy to break. She was softer, at least he'd assumed so- weaker because she was female. When he had her in this position, at his mercy, he figured she'd be sobbing out all the information she had, just so he would let her go.

But she didn't. She didn't cry, she didn't plead, she didn't do anything like that.

These people were toughened by months and months out in the open. They fought for each other, they fought to live, they did what ever needed to be done just so they could fight and live another day...

"Do whatever you're gonna do- then go to hell."

The Governor contemplated it, but in the end he relinquished his hold on her and stepped away. But before he left the room he took the articles of clothing he'd told her to shed.

These people wouldn't be broken by threats on their own lives, he realized as he held Maggie's clothes in hand. They fought for each other... They'd die for each other...

.

.

They drove some miles out on the road, following Michonne's direction until she told Rick to stop, and he parked on the side, in the dirt. They all got out and she explained that they had patrols and it was best to go the rest of the way on foot- just another mile or two.

She was leading the way through the trees, catching the conversation behind her between Rick and who she became plenty aware of was Daryl. Lacey's Daryl. Daryl Dixon. Merle's brother. She didn't understand what Lacey could possibly see in him, all she saw was younger version of Merle. Though the way she saw him interact with Sam was... different. They way he'd moved to protect her, the way she ran after him and brought him back fifteen minutes later good as new... well... as good as it could get... presentable. And Erin, the girl who had been peeking through the bars to spy on her, was one of Lacey's girls, he was good with her too. And then the tiny blonde girl, Honey -she's sure that's what they called her- that was Lacey's other girl, the very first one. But since Lacey was gone they'd become Daryl's girls, and she felt like she didn't have to worry for them. Like she knew that they were in good hands. The hands of a capable, strong, protective father. Maybe that's what Lacey saw...

But concerning the quiet voices behind her, Daryl dismissed Rick's thanks for taking care of his newborn daughter while he was out of it, like it was nothing, it wasn't a big deal, because it was what they did. It was trust and family. It was a breath of fresh air...

Until walkers started emerging from the trees from all sides, then the stench of death filled the air and they were getting surrounded and overwhelmed. So many of them, too many of them. They made a break for it when an opening presented itself, and stumbled upon a cabin neatly placed on the edge of small lake.

But the cabin didn't offer much in the ways of salvation. A pungent scent of decay coated the air that wasn't belonging to the scent of a dead body (which they'd become used to), but upon locating the source of the smell, a dog that was long dead. The walkers weren't so easily shaken, they were banging against the door, and it would only be a matter of time before enough of them piled against it and finally broke the barrier from its hinges.

That appeared to be the least of their problems, though, when they discovered they weren't alone confined within the little cabin. And though the occupant was still very much alive, he wasn't in possession of all his wits. He appeared to have no idea of what exactly the situation was in the world outside his cabin. When he claimed loudly that he'd called the cops Rick shot back in a harsh whisper that he was a cop. And in trying to talk the man down with his cop voice, he received the barrel end of a shotgun pointed with a trembling aim at his face and a demand to see his badge.

Rick made a show of slowly reaching toward his pocket where he said he kept his badge before shoving barrel away and knocking the gun from the man's hands completely. During the struggle the trigger pulled and the shot sounded too loud in the room, blowing a hole in the back door. Rick tried to contain the man, tried to explain to him that he needed to be quiet and they weren't the ones that he needed to worry about. But when teeth sunk into his arm Rick let go, the guy was bolting for the door, about to grab for the handle and let the flood in. Michonne halted all sounds and movements when her blade slid through the man's chest. She pulled it away and he crumbled to the floor, dead and bleeding out. It was all of them or just him, and she chose him. They weren't going to die for some nut.

Thinking quickly, and much to Oscar's dismay, Rick asked for Daryl's help with the body and had Michonne man the door. Having Oscar check the back, and confirming they were clear back there, on the count of three they hurled the cabin owner's body out into the horde on the stoop. They tore into him immediately. Door secured and locked again they were able to go out the back, keeping low and moving fast without any walker noticing them.

The rest of the way to Woodbury by Michonne's guidance bared them no hassle as the sky steadily began to darken.

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When the door to Glenn's 'cell' opened up he was immediately on the defensive, he was wielding the piece of chair that was still tapped around his forearm up in front of him. Merle and Martinez came in, the latter aiming a gun at him which made him lower his jagged piece of chair. But when Maggie was hauled in, the entire upper half of her body bare, her arms held tightly against her to cover up. Glenn raised his spur-of-the-moment weapon again, eyes wide and burning with anger and hatred.

Martinez switched up his aim onto Maggie, and with the gun in the Governor's hand pointed at Maggie as well, there wasn't much he could do but toss his weapon to the floor.

"Now, we're through with games. One of you is goin' to give up your camp." the Governor stated. Glenn's eyes were firmly on Maggie, who gave the tiniest shake of her head. But his throat was burning with the urge to just give up, give in. He couldn't stand to see her like that, just the pull of a trigger away from death. But he didn't make a sound.

Just a second later with the gun swung onto Glenn and the Governor stepping forward toward him, and it was Maggie who finally broke. She choked on her breath and stuttered out, "Prison!" as she stepped after the Governor. Merle's arm barred her path and Martinez kept his gun trained on her.

"That place is overrun." he said.

"We took it." she mumbled in a watery tone, chin trembling, seeing the disappointment in Glenn's eyes. But she couldn't do it. She couldn't take the risk.

"How many are you?" the Governor asked.

"Thirteen. Well- thirteen now..." she didn't include the younger ones, the unarmed ones.

"Thirteen people cleaned out that whole prison of biters, huh?" the Governor scoffed a laugh, looking to Glenn the boy didn't make any attempts of objection, so what Maggie was saying had to be taken as gospel. He holstered his weapon and walked back over to Maggie, her eyes were still pinned to Glenn- even when the Governor added insult to injury, trying to shush and hold Maggie to him, taunting Glenn who couldn't make a move out of fear of the consequences.

But then he finally shoved Maggie toward Glenn, and she clutched to him tightly, sobbing softly as the men left the room, locking the door after them, leaving with the information they wanted and finally had...

The Governor sent for Milton and Keenan. In the Governor's home, they all stood awkwardly as their leader paced, telling them what they now knew.

"Thirteen people..." he stated. He'd stated it under his breath the entire way back to the apartment building. He'd been stating it quietly as he paced, but now he stated it as he addressed his men.

Milton was shaking his head, "That's deep in the red zone. There's no way only-,"

He was cut off by the Governor, whose anxiety was almost getting the better of him, "So she's lying? 'Cause if she's lying that means a pretty sizable force has moved into our backyard."

"But the prison though?" Keenan asked incredulously, "With all them biters milling about in the yard, and who knows how many actually inside the place? Maybe she's not lying about how many they are, but maybe she _is_ lying about their actual location."

The Governor pointed to Keenan, acknowledging his valid argument, but the question remained, "But if she's not..."

He turned to Merle, crowding him, "This group, with your brother at its core, has done something you told me couldn't be done. They did it."

Merle didn't change his expression, maintained eye contact. He wasn't some chump that would be reduced to quaking in his boots, but he needed the Governor's trust if he wanted to stay alive. So he didn't flinch when the Governor continued, "I know how you felt about that girl, she was fucking your brother- made a man out of him, you said." Merle noticed the way the scowl deepened on Keenan's face from the corner of his vision.

"You loved her. She was like family?" the Governor proceeded, not taking a moment to pause, getting to and prodding at the heart of his speculation. Merle felt the urge to swallow away the parched feeling in his throat, but resisted. "Your brother might be out there right now searching for them. Blood is blood, right?... Makes me wonder where your loyalties lie..."

Unhesitatingly he replied, "Here."

The Governor seemed sated with that answer and turned to Martinez, "You two get a small group and scout this prison. I wanna know exactly what we're dealing with."

"You got it." came Martinez's reply but the Governor was already occupied with Keenan, the two moving toward the Governor's desk, speaking hushedly.

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They were behind the cover of cars and bushes and the shadows of trees as they looked on to the high wall of Woodbury with spot lights and armed men dotted along the top. What the hell were they getting in to...

Rustling in the bushes behind them caused them all to turn, weapons brandished, aimed and ready. Michonne being the closest had her sword prepared to sink into what ever or who ever it was but then-

Rocket snuffled out of the brush and nudged her nose against Michonne's hand circled tightly around her blade's grip, and then Sam emerged after. The teen had on a face of excitement and pride, reassurance and a far more minimal amount of apprehension than she should have expressed. She sank down beside Rocket, bringing an arm over her and pulling her closer to her, while she quietly uttered, "Hey, so I've gotten pretty good at tracking. Well, Rocket might have helped a little, but..." she offered an uncertain smile that basically looked like a wincing show of teeth, paired with a small shrug of her shoulders. The adults looked back at her with horror painting their features more than annoyance.

"Goddamnit, Sam!" was chided in a hiss.

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Note: Thank you to my beta for patiently dealing with my psychosis. Thanks for all reviews.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.


	11. Chapter 11

Note: Apologies for the wait! Thanks for the reviews, alerts and follows!

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"I expected better from you." Rick scolded quietly. Sam just rolled her eyes at the adults each giving her their own brand of reprimanding glares.

"Did you though?" she smirked smally, keeping a hold around Rocket whose curiosity was going to get them all caught if she wandered too far. "Come on, you could use all the help you can get," Sam expressed as she gestured widely toward the high wall and bright lights just a few yards away from where they were huddled together. "We're talking about the people that _captured_ our people. Of course I'm not gonna just stand by and not be part of the rescue team that stole Lacey from me- from us." she glanced to Daryl and Michonne, both of them giving a sort of motion of agreement. She looked back to Rick, "Now what's the plan?"

"You're not any good with a gun." Rick stated.

"Hey, ouch." Sam faked wounded, but continued on, serious, "I'm good enough. I know the basics, now put something in my hands that you know _I_ know how to handle and let's go. 'sides, we'd never go in guns blazing. Guns are back up, right?"

Michonne had placed a hand on Sam's shoulder while she was speaking and snuck around the car they were shielded by, scurrying away from sight. Sam was used to this sort of behavior from her, having dealt with it for eight months. She didn't question it but the others did.

"Hey-!" Rick hissed, "Where the hell is she goin'?" He shot a glance back to the Woodbury wall and sighed. Looking to Sam he saw she had an expectant expression, and he finally sighed, giving in, "Alright..." he took the pack from his back, Oscar and Daryl following his example when he said, "We need to downsize."

"Ain't no way we're checkin' all them buildin's. Not with all them guards there." Daryl said, feeling an uncomfortable pang in his chest when Sam took the Beretta Rick passed to her.

There was a rustling from behind them and they all reacted, but relaxed when they saw Michonne press a finger to her lips and waved for them to follow. Sam whispered for Rocket to stay put, stay quiet, and that they'd be back soon, and they trailed after the swordsman to where she'd found a defect in the wall that allowed them to gain entrance without detection.

They successfully breached Woodbury.

Now came the hard part. Finding Glenn, Maggie and Lacey.

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"He thought I was a lesbian because of my hair." Carol chuckled quietly. Amy's eyes widened as she stifled a laugh and covered it up with a cough, unlike Jo who let out a delighted bark of laughter.

Carol had encouraged Axel to accompany her to the tower to relieve Jo and Amy from watch. And while Axel passed up the 20 something's on the stairs, muttering a cheerful, 'See ya, kiddos', Carol was at the bottom, rifle hanging from its strap on her shoulder, her arms crossed with a smirk on her mouth, as she started explaining what had happened in the block just ten minutes ago.

"Wow." Jo laughed again, "Well, have a nice time with that. We'll switch off in say... three hours?"

Carol affirmed that sounded just fine and started up the stairs in the tower while Jo and Amy headed back toward the prison. Firearms hanging off their shoulders and their fingers were laced together as they walked at a leisurely pace, soaking up a minute or so of peace together before they snapped back into reality again...

The block door groaned loudly when Jo closed it, and Beth was at the gate with the keys, unlocking it before they were there.

"Where's Carl?" Jo asked when they entered the cell block and Beth locked the gate after them. Looking around there was a candle lit in two of the cells, where the girls were sleeping, Sophia, Erin, Honey, and Judith. Jo nodded, "Go ahead," to Amy, who was absolutely exhaused, to get some rest too before they had to shuffle back to the tower, bright eyed and attentive.

"He went to investigate some screamin', sounded like it was comin' from inside." Beth explained with a cautious tone, wringing the ring of keys in her hands.

Jo turned to her with an owlish expression, then glanced to Hershel, "And you just let him go down there by himself?"

"He's not a boy anymore, you know that just as well as I do." Hershel said. And Jo sighed, rubbing his hands over his face before his fingers sifted through his curls.

"Yeah." he mumbled, then walked over to the steps and sat down, legs a wobbly mess, splayed out in front of him, "Sometimes all I want to see is that little boy again. That happy, wild eyed toddler I used to play with when Lori would ask Lacey to babysit." he chuckled at the memory.

Beth and Hershel smiled at the distant look that took over Jo's face, memories distracting him momentarily. Jo had been Carl's age when he met him. Ten or eleven years old meeting a squishy, whining, crying baby that only laughed when Jo made faces or played peek-a-boo with him. Such a long time ago, and somehow longer now than it seemed... Jo's dreamy expression was wiped away when he stated, "He's got seven more minutes before I go after him."

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The five made their way into the first building by Michonne's direction. But the room was bare - no Maggie, no Glenn, no Lacey.

Sam stuck close to Michonne, gazing all around them. It felt strange; there was a twist in her gut, a feeling that told her this wasn't right. Like they were somewhere they shouldn't be. Sure, they'd scavenged through the remains of hundreds of abandoned homes, but this... this didn't seem right. Getting caught by walkers, they could handle. Getting caught by other humans... The gun suddenly felt much heavier tucked snuggly against her belt. Killing walkers was one thing, killing humans... She wasn't... She couldn't do that... Maybe if-

Her thoughts were disrupted by Rick asking Michonne, "This is where you were held?"

"I was questioned." she answered.

"Any idea where else they could be?"

Daryl peeked around the curtains of one of the front windows, "I thought you said there was a curfew." he grumbled. And scurrying over to his side Sam could see there were quite a few people out there, walking around, like it was... just an easy evening walk... Like- How the hell could they not be on their guard? They weren't even armed! How-?

"The street is packed during the day. Those are just stragglers." Michonne said.

"Anyone comes in here we're sittin' ducks." Rick muttered, turning away from the windows, "We gotta move."

"They could be in his apartment." Michonne offered, eyeing the men carefully as they approached. And Sam was quick to cut off their path to her friend, shielding her, just in case. Sam trusting her apparently wasn't enough for them to trust her as well.

"Yeah? What if they ain't?" Daryl snapped, giving Sam a look like _'What the fuck are you doin'? Don't gimme that look, you little shit'._

"Then we'll look somewhere else." Michonne stated, fully aware of what Sam was doing, fully aware that these people didn't trust her even though she'd led them here, led them in to find _their_ friends (and to deal some payback and expose the Governor for what he was, but they didn't need to know that she had her own agenda. The priority was the Asian kid and the pretty girl). So she made one wrong step and she was the enemy all over again, but she had Sam on her side. She knew that counted for something. Sam was just as lethal as she was, just as quick, just as clever.

"You said you could help us." Rick sneered.

Michonne was somewhat startled, "I'm doin' what I can."

"Then where in the hell are they?" his response came out close to a snarl, and Sam's hand took hold of the crook of Michonne's elbow.

The three men gathered a few paces away, talking in hushed tones, but not enough so. Sam could still hear them. She heard Rick say if things went south they were cutting her lose, even if she wasn't leading them into a trap (which she wasn't), it was basically the blind leading the blind, and this whole rescue mission would be for naught if they didn't start searching the next probable place where Glenn and Maggie were being held.

Sam tried not to narrow her eyes in their direction, but Michonne caught the twitch of her eyelids and whispered, "This is the guy you were so anxious to get back to?" in reference to Rick.

"We've all changed over time..." she mumbled back. She looked toward the windows again, the flickering torch lights lining the street, the silhouettes of the townies. She gnawed on her bottom lip before she spoke up, "What if one of us went out there? A group of us will cause suspicion; dirty, unfamiliar faces. But just one of us? I could go out there and search-,"

She was cut off with four sharp, serious responses of, "No." all at once. Even Michonne? What the hell? Sam scoffed, raising and flopping her arms at her sides.

"I'm not a _kid_, you know. I've seen, heard and done shit that I shouldn't-," Sam's hisses were cut short (again).

The sound of knocking on the door made them all freeze. Michonne grabbed Sam before Daryl could as they scattered to find hiding places. They were all concealed from sight when the lock slid and the door opened, then closed. The person who entered the building took a few paces in before they spoke, "I know you're in here. I saw you movin' from outside."

Sam shot a glance to Michonne, eyes incapable of conveying all the things she wanted to ask. Michonne was here before, was this a man she'd encountered? Was he dangerous? Was he the Governor? What should they do?

"Alright now," the guy spoke again, his steps coming closer toward the back of the room, where they were all nestled in the dark corners, wound tight and ready to pounce. "You're not supposed to be in here and you know it. Who's in here?"

Rick sprang first, slamming the man against the wall, a hand firmly pressed over his mouth, the muzzle of his gun at the man's temple, "Shut. Up. Get on your knees." he ordered and shoved the guy for added measure. The guy complied, staring up at Rick, unaware of the four others behind him. "Hands behind your back." he ordered, and Daryl was there behind the Woodbury townie. Rick nodded to him, "Tie 'em."

He crouched in front of the man, "Where are our people?" he asked.

The guy was shaking his head, "I don't know!" Genuinely terrified, as he should be.

"You are holding some of our people, where the hell are they?!" Rick demanded. Zip ties secured around the man's wrists, Daryl stood up, crossbow now aimed at the back of his head. Sam looked an inch away from horrified, this guy really didn't know anything, they weren't really going to kill him just because he didn't know, were they? She'd shot a man, with an arrow, once, in the ass, but he was trying to steal Lacey (and he succeeded). It was justified. This though?

"I-I don't know." the man stuttered.

Rick could tell he was telling the truth, there was that at least. He wasn't blinded enough by his rage to miss that. All the same, they were in unfriendly territory and this guy could destroy their entire operation, "Open your mouth."

The guy wasn't all that compliant then as he was before, but as he tried to make his pleas Rick shoved a filthy cloth into his mouth, effectively muffling him. He stood and nodded to Daryl. And the crossbow came down heavily across the back of the man's head. He toppled over, face first into the floor.

Sam winced at all the sounds, rubbing a hand on the back of her skull, "_Jesus_."

"Sam, now's not the time for a lesson on morals standards. You wanna find ours or not?" Rick said as he made his way to the window again, carefully, making sure no one else was waiting for this man they just incapacitated.

"Yeah, but consider a change in policy." Sam muttered, and Rick was coming back their way, "What happens when that dude comes to and-,"

Gun shots. Not too far away. Not from the wall, either. The men stationed there were handling rifles and snipers. What they heard sounded like it was on full-auto, submachine gun?

"I think we found them..." Sam said with wide eyes...

Following the direction of the shots wasn't easy, but they found the warehouse. Weapons primed. They were sure they had the right building this time, who else would they be speaking to so forcefully? Guiding Glenn and Maggie with, "On your feet! Move! Let's go, come on!"

Crouched against the separating wall, Rick and Daryl searched through the one backpack they brought with them. A flash bang and tear gas, a couple gas masks. Daryl made a motion with his hand to Sam- stick close to Oscar. The flash bang went out first, and Oscar pulled Sam away from direct sight of the flash before it went off. Then the gas was tossed out. With the Woodbury men coughing, swearing, and blindly shooting, Rick and Michonne grabbed Maggie and Glenn without a hitch.

They blended in with the minor chaos in the streets. People leaving their homes to see what the big deal was, why so many gun shots, gun shots that sounded like they were coming from inside the walls.

Michonne brought them along the sidewalk and into an empty building, opening the door and ushering them in. And once they were all in, she shut the door. It was her turn now...

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"Ain't no way out back here!" Daryl called from the back portion of the room they were led into, and now most likely trapped in.

"What the hell kind of building doesn't have a back exit!? That's a fire hazard and a half!" Sam wailed quietly as she fussed over Glenn and Maggie, looking over their injuries. It appeared that Glenn had received the bulk of the beatings.

"Rick, how did you find us?" Maggie asked while Sam fished around the bags for an extra shirt. She helped Maggie ease Glenn into carefully, wincing when he winced and hissed.

"How bad are you hurt?" Rick ignored Maggie's query, stepping away from the window he was looking out of. People were scrambling through the street. Their only exit was the way they came in, they'd surely be spotted if they tried to go over the wall in a clump, but they needed to stick together.

"I'll be alright." Glenn croaked.

Maggie whipped her gaze around the dark room, "Where's that woman?"

"Mich?" Sam stood up and looked around, "Mich isn't here? Where'd she -?"

"She was right behind us."

"Maybe she was spotted."

"I gotta-," Sam was already dropping the gun and starting for the door. _Not again. Not. Again_.

"Want me to go look for her?" Daryl offered, barring Sam's path, which she huffed at and tried to move around him, but then Rick was blocking her too.

"No, we gotta get them out of here. She's on her own. Sorry, Sam."

Sam's jaw slackened, "But-," _she's my friend... No, don't worry about it. She can handle herself. She'll be fine._

"Daryl, this was Merle. It was. He did this." Glenn bit out, trying to help Maggie button up the shirt, but he was in bad shape, and apparently _Merle_ was to blame.

"You saw him?" Daryl asked, and the look on his face. It was nearly like the look Sam saw when she'd slumped onto the prison gates little over a week ago. Recognition, disbelief, relief. But with Merle's mention there was an added pinch of fear.

"Face to face. He threw a walker at me. He was gonna execute us." Glenn affirmed, and Sam moved forward to help Maggie stand him up.

"My brother's this Governor?"

"No, he's somebody else. Your brother's his lieutenant or somethin'." Maggie said and handed Sam her gun back.

Questions were rolling through Daryl's mind. He had so many more to ask, but what came from his mouth was, "Does he know I'm still with you?" He wanted to ask if Lacey had been with him too. If Lacey had been with them at all. Did Merle lay a finger on her, because god fucking damnit if he did. But he wouldn't, would he? Merle wasn't a woman beater, no.

"He does now." Glenn said, then looked to Rick, "Rick, I'm sorry. We told him where the prison was. We couldn't hold out."

Rick approached Glenn as he shushed him, "Don't. No need to apologize."

"They're gonna be lookin' for us." Maggie said.

Rick was back at the window, looking between the street that was less crowded now and back to his people, back to Glenn and Maggie, "We gotta get back. Can you walk? We got a car a few miles out."

"I'm good." Glenn nodded, shuffling toward the door with Maggie's assistance.

"Wait! If Merle's around, I need to see him!" Daryl's outburst stalled everyone's movement, he's eyes were pleading, along with his words.

"Not now, we're in hostile territory." Rick stated.

"He's my brother, he ain't gonna try-,"

Rick cut off Daryl's reasoning in a hushed strict voice, "Look at what he did! We gotta get outta here- now."

But this was his brother, his brother he thought he'd lost. But he was here? Alive? And so close? "I gotta talk to him, maybe I can work somethin' out-,"

"No, no, no." Rick shushed him, "You're not thinkin' straight. Look, no matter what they say, they're hurt. Glenn can barely walk. How are we gonna make it out if we get overrun by walkers and this Governor catches up to us? I need you." Rick said, and Daryl remembered the brotherhood kindled over the past eight months. Along with the past few days Rick wasn't exactly in the best of shape, or in the right of mind. Daryl was his backup, in more ways than one. "Are you with me?" Rick asked.

Daryl briefly looked to Sam - Little Sister - before he nodded, "...Yeah."

They all huddled by the door with two smoke grenades ready and guns with safeties switched off, Rick looked to each of them as he said, "On three. Stay tight."

The first grenade was thrown. Then the second. The smoke created a thick veil for them to work with, but it caught the attention of every guard near that area of the town.

"1, 2, 3!" Rick and Oscar moved out first, Maggie and Sam kept a hold on Glenn with one arm each, the other with a gun, trigger finger ready. And Daryl brought up from behind.

"There they are!" was called and soon they were exchanging bullets through the thick smoke coated air. There wasn't anyway to get a clear target, it was all just shooting blindly and hoping something hit. They were half way across the street, no place to hide for all of them.

"Take cover! In there!" Rick shouted over the gunfire, and led the way to a brick archway that was enough to cover them for a few moments. The occasional bullet bounced off the edge of the bricks and Maggie and Sam would return fire.

"How many?! I didn't see!" Rick asked.

"It doesn't matter, there's gonna be more of 'em." Daryl said, hands busy reloading, "We gotta move."

The smoke screen was lifting, clearing, Rick made note of that.

"Any grenades left?"

"Uh huh."

"Get 'em ready. We gotta gun it to the wall."

"You guys go on ahead, I'm gonna lay down some cover fire." Daryl stated.

"I'll stay with you." Sam said. And before Daryl could deny her Maggie swung on the both of them.

"We gotta stay together!"

Daryl shook his head, "It's too hairy, I'll be right behind ya." he took up the grenade and looked to Sam, "You stay by me, but you move when I say, got it?"

Sam nodded. And the grenade was sent out.

With just one grenade they didn't have as much smoke as a minute ago, but it was enough to get them moving. Rick crowed above all the noise, "Go! Keep going!"

Glenn, Maggie and Oscar were climbing up the front end of a bus that acted as an added barrier against the wall. There was a cry of pain and then Maggie was screaming for Rick. Sam peered through the smoke, trying to get a target on the dark outlines of bodies, aiming for legs, arms. Maggie's name was called. And Rick was screamed for again and then he was rushing toward the wall.

Maggie and Glenn were up and over the wall, and Rick was headed there next, calling for Sam and Daryl. Rick caught the teen, in the middle of reloading, around her arm and tugged her back while Daryl kept shooting, calling over the reports, "Go!"

Sam struggled against Rick's grip as grabbed her hips and hoisted her up onto the hood of the bus, "Daryl!" she screamed and moved to jump back down but Rick was up beside her, hooking his arms around her while she shrieked.

"Do as I say, sis! Go!" he shouted back to her, and she just barely heard it, her heart stuttering and shattering in her chest.

She screamed and squirmed all while Rick took them over the wall, "No! NO! Daryl!"

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Michonne broke into his apartment just as easily as she did the first time. She had a small hope that Lacey might be there. She doubted the Governor would let her go with just a slap on the wrist after she jumped the wall, while making off with those guns and all that ammunition. But she wasn't anywhere within the dark apartment.

Her eyes landed on the Governor's desk, and like an unsolved puzzle she found she couldn't ignore the annoying itching in the back of her mind that revived the mystery that was Lacey's schedule. She rifled through the notebooks, searching through schedules, looking for patterns. Nothing synced up!

But then-

Merle... Whenever he was scheduled for watch shifts during the night... Away from the house...

It made sense now. Oh, the sick sense it made, it-

There was a thumping, an insistent noise, and Michonne couldn't help but think, _Oh, god, Lacey_?

She investigated further. Breaking down a door, discovering a whole new room of confusion and unhealthiness. There were a couple of familiar faces within the fish tanks that lined the wall, stacked and glowing with an eerie, filthy green light.  
But Lacey's head wasn't among them, and Michonne felt a brief moment of relief. The thumping continued. And revealing the source, it wasn't Lacey, but rather-

God... A little girl. Chained, arms bound, and a hood over her head. But in unchaining her and taking the hood from over her face-

_God_.

She turned the girl to face away from her, about to purge the world and release her from this existence, but then-

"NO! Don't hurt her... Please."

There was no longer any doubt about the Governor's questionable sanity as he pleaded for his dead daughter's 'life'...

The tanks didn't stay lined against the wall long after Michonne shoved her blade through the back of Penny's skull. The Governor was ruthless, fueled by heartbreak and rage, the two fought all around the room. Michonne was lucky to escape with her life when she caught a piece of glass off one of the shattered tanks and forced it into the Governor's eye.

She would've finished the job too, but then Andrea was there. And after all the time they'd spent together, all they'd been through, after all that she'd been told and _seen_, Andrea still chose this psychotic over her, over Lacey, over her group which still contained her little sister...

Michonne left, battered, bleeding and bruised, but she still managed to get on the outside of Woodbury without being detected again.

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.

"Hey! You can't just leave us in here! Open this door!"

Jo startled. He might have dozed alongside Amy for a minute or two, accidentally, as he waited for the time he allowed Carl to be up. He sprang up from the ridiculously small bunk and shot out of the cell. "What in the _hell_!" he breathed and leaned over the railing on the second level to peer down. That voice wasn't familiar, and it was _very_ aggressive, what the _hell_ was going on? He bolted down the steps, pistol drawn as the woman's voice continued to screech. This chick's behavior, it just- she'd wake the girls, and that was of _the utmost importance_.

"Open this door! Open it! Now!"

His aim was level with the new woman's head where she was behind the bars separating the block from the common area, he took a stand beside Carl, "Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down and step away from the bars."

"Woah, woah, man." another stranger emerged and presented himself, with hands up, surrendering, he looked between Carl and Jo, "It's cool." he assured them calmly.

"Is it?" Jo squinted and nodded toward the woman who was still fuming, chest heaving, eyes blazing hotly.

"Sasha! Back away from the door and let the men go." the man took the woman by the arm and guided her away, mumbling, "Look around you. This is the best we've had in weeks." he continued on in a whisper, too low for Carl and Jo to hear, but it appeared to lull the woman into a placid disposition.

The man looked back toward Jo, shaking his head, "We don't want any trouble." and Jo gave a nod back, lowering his gun and putting it away into the holster under his arm. The group Carl contained disappeared from sight, but their quiet grumblings echoed into the block.

"You're becoming a regular Lacey Black, picking up strays." Jo chuckled.

"I couldn't just leave them-," Carl started to reason, but Jo was shaking his head, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"No, I know. I know, it's alright. I was just worried about you." he smirked tightly, and Carl mimicked the look.

Then Jo was glancing all around. His brow scrunched and before Carl could ask what was wrong, Jo said-

"Where's Sam?"

"Last thing she told Carol she was going on watch with you and Amy." Hershel said from the doorway of his cell.

Jo inhaled sharply through his nose, eyes widening a fraction, back straightening, "She told me she was keeping things ship shape in here..." he brought his hands to his face and sighed out, "_Fuuuck_."

"Alright." he said, taking his hands away, and grabbing for his gun again, "If Rocket's gone too, then we don't have anything to worry about... probably."

.

.

"Get down!" the warning was hissed as Rick, Maggie, Glenn, Sam and Rocket (who was very relieved to see them all in one piece after all that noise within the town) scurried along the broken down cars and looked up toward the barren wall. The spot lights still blared brightly, but the guardsmen had abandoned their posts at the sound of gunfire. They would be coming back soon, and who knows, maybe the Governor would send some men out to try and track them down and finish them off. But they couldn't leave, they were missing one. And the gunfire had ceased for over five minutes now. Something was wrong. "Come on, Daryl. Where the hell are you..." Rick mumbled timorously.

Sam was shaking her head, this was taking far too long, he should've been with them by now, they should've been miles from this place and preparing for the inevitable violent rebuttal from Woodbury. She bumped her shoulder against Rick's, "We gotta go back for him. And Mich."

"Sam-," he started, but then there was a commotion from behind them. And it was a force of habit by now to reach for their weapons and take aim as they spun around to the possible threat.

Once again, it was only Michonne. Sam deflated and dropped her aim, letting out a sigh of relief, but was startled upon closer observation Michonne looked exhausted and... and beat up. What-?

"Put your hands up. Turn around- turn around!" Rick ordered harshly, his gun pointed at her, as well as Glenn's and Maggie's too. And Michonne listened, turning around so her back was to Rick. He nodded to the teen, "Sam, take it."

She gave a heavy sigh, but took the katana. Michonne was a valuable ally, and even after all her help- Sam just didn't understand, maybe she was still too trusting of people, or maybe Rick wasn't giving people enough of a chance. "Get what you came for?" he asked when Michonne turned back around and dropped her hands to her sides. She had cuts all over her face and arms and hands, and that was just what they could see in the scarce light from the spot lights.

"Where are the rest of your people?"

"They got Oscar." Glenn spoke through the swelling inside his mouth, keeping his aim on the weaponless woman.

"Daryl's missing, you didn't see him?" Maggie asked, slightly frantic, her aim slowly falling. And Michonne responded with a shake of her head.

Sam side stepped in front of Rick as he moved forward to crowd her friend (yet again), she didn't raise the sword in a threatening manner he was anticipating, her eyes gave enough warning, though. But he still spoke over Sam's head, "If anything happens to him-,"

"I brought you here to save them." Michonne nodded to Glenn and Maggie.

And she did just that. Without her they would have never known what happened to them, known that they were taken rather than attacked and devoured by walkers, which they would have assumed. Without her they wouldn't know how to get to Woodbury, they wouldn't have made it out of that cabin with that nutjob that would've gotten them all killed, they wouldn't have been able to get into Woodbury under the radar. Her imaginary debt, or whatever it was that was making her do this, was fulfilled.

"Thanks for the help."

Michonne nudged Sam aside, appreciating her protection, but she needed Rick to see and hear her without a barrier, without him feeling almost betrayed. Because Sam had stood between Rick and Michonne more than enough times to warrant a question of loyalty. "You'll need help to get them back to the prison, or to go back in there for Daryl. Either way- you need me."

Rick looked around at his group, what he had to work with, and it wasn't much. Maggie was the only able bodied one besides himself, and he sure as hell wasn't taking Sam back into that. He inhaled slowly through his nose, nodding, and on his exhale he murmured, "Alright. Let's go."

Michonne plucked her sword from Sam's hands as the girl's eyes widened. She scurried up to Rick's side, whispering, stuttering, rushed, "We can't leave him! We can't! I won't let them take another one from me! Please! Rick, please! I-i-if you don't do something then I'll-,"

They were making their way away from Woodbury, into the trees.

"Sam, listen to me. Take a couple breaths. Calm down. We aren't leaving without him. I want you and Rocket to go with Glenn and your friend, make sure they make it back all right to the car," Rick explained. They were far enough among the trees where they could speak louder than a whisper. He paused in walking, looking to the others who had heard him, making sure they understood what was happening, what the plan was. He put his hands on Sam's shoulders, "I promise you I will bring him back."

"W... Well- What about Lacey? We didn't find her, there wasn't enough time, do you think-,"

"Lacey's in that place?" Glenn's alarmed wondering cut Sam's words short.

"If she's there Maggie and I'll get her too. Just trust me, Sam." Rick said, and jutted a nod in the direction of Michonne and Glenn, letting go of her, "Go with them. And don't sneak after us, please. Promise me you'll stay behind."

And Sam was nodding, frantically, and waved her hands at them in a shoo-ing motion, "I promise. I promise! Just go- hurry!"

There was an argument from Glenn, but it was quickly shushed when Maggie said she was fine and they'd be back soon. And Glenn couldn't really say _or_ _do_ much after that, throbbing and aching almost all over, and with Sam tugging him along, they were headed back to the SUV two miles out on the road. Maggie and Rick headed back to rescue the Dixon's, and they would be more or less correct in their retrieval objective, they just had a short, blonde Dixon in mind rather than one of the missing appendage variety...

.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing I don't have a handle on."

"Oh, yes. Obviously. Judging by the state your in. You had your ass handed to you by a _woman_. _And_ she took out your goddamned _eye_. Christ! You said we were going to get rid of that group living in the prison and let the biters take it over again! What the _fuck_ has been happening since then? The town is terrified, some of our own are dead in the street-!"

"Now, listen, Grady-,"

"No, you listen! You're not the only one who has power here. This place wouldn't be what it is without **me**. Sometimes I think you forget that. Now, you tell me just what. The fuck. Is going. On."

"I've got something I think you'll enjoy..."

The Governor paused, but Keenan's bitter expression didn't waver aside from an unimpressed upward tilt of a brow. The Governor continued-

"The other Dixon..."

.

The citizens of Woodbury were all gathered at the arena, seated in the bleachers for a discussion about tonight's events. An explanation. And to witness the state their dear leader was now in because of what happened. They were chattering among themselves, confused and scared (as they should be), but when the Governor walked into the center of the arena a hush took over. Some gasped at the bandage wrapped around his face, the pad of gauze slowly tinting red as he looked over them and waited for complete silence.

"What can I say...?" he finally spoke, raising his arms and shrugging them down in despair. He continued, making a slow circle around the arena, taking his time to look at each and every citizen, "Hasn't been a night like this since the walls were completed. And I thought we were past it. Past the days when we all sat huddled scared in front of the tv during the early days of the outbreak. The fear we all felt then, we felt it again tonight..." his gaze fell to the dirt beneath his feet, "I failed you... I promised to keep you safe." A bitter chuckle left him as he looked up again, "Hell, look at me! I... I should tell you that we'll be okay, that we're safe, that tomorrow we'll bury our dead and endure, but I won't, 'cause I can't. 'Cause I'm afraid..." murmurs and whispers came from the crowd. Surely, no, their fearless leader that delivered them from the horrors outside their walls wasn't- "That's right..." he nodded, "I'm afraid of the terrorists that want what we have. Want to destroy us!" there were gasps at his unadulterated exclamation. But then his tone grew grave, "And worse, 'cause one of those terrorists is one of our own- Merle."

The Governor raised an arm as he swung onto Merle and pointed an accusatory finger. The crowd grew a little restless at this information. Merle didn't make any move to defend himself against incrimination, didn't fight off the guardsmen he considered... acquaintances (at best)... as they stripped him of his guns and the knife fitted into his apparatus. The townspeople were buzzing with disbelief, chattering and gasping. And the Governor continued as Merle was ushered with a shove toward the center of the ring toward him.

"The man I counted on, the man I trusted. He led them here! He let them in. It was you!" he spat, "You lied! Betrayed us all!"

From outside the darker edges of the arena there was movement. A body, hands bound, hood over head, was escorted by two men as they thrashed and squirmed, trying to get away, but all attempts proved fruitless. They were brought into the light, into the center, nudged none too kindly toward the Governor.

"_This_! Is one of the terrorists!" he called and grabbed at the stumbling hooded man, and brought him closer so he could yank the hood away. The younger Dixon was revealed, wincing at the sudden harsh light, a cut on his cheek that had ceased bleeding.

"Merle's own brother..."

The Dixon's stood near each other when the Governor dropped Daryl's arm and pushed him toward Merle. Merle's shock was plain to see.

"What should we do with them, huh?!" the Governor addressed his people.

And the answer was unanimous, "Kill them!", screamed and spat and cheered and yelled. Even the children were crying out for death to the terrorists...

When Daryl's eyes adjusted to the light he combed the crowd for Lacey, and more than once he got his hopes up when he saw something blonde, but it wasn't her. She wasn't anywhere in the crowd, but maybe that meant she was somewhere else. Somewhere safe? Not among the sea of people surrounding the ring with him and his brother in the center howling for their deaths, the Governor would've no doubt included her too if she was there. But she wasn't here, so anywhere away from here had to be safe, and he was put at ease, slightly, at the thought of it. Though that ease disappeared when there was a particularly rabid man near the edge of the ring, tall, skinny, dark haired, bearded with pale blue eyes, and a hateful stare burning directly at him as he viciously bawled, "KILL THEM!" What the hell-? His attention was torn away from the man when the Governor approached Merle saying, "You wanted you brother, now you got him."

From the sidelines Andrea emerged, struggling, putting up a fight and calling for the Governor, "Phillip!" But she was held back, restrained. She tried to reason for Daryl, "He's my friend!"

But the Governor just stared on at the two, in a gravelly deadpan, "It's not up to me anymore. The people have spoken."

And it was then, it seemed, that Andrea had realized her mistake. Maybe Lacey was right, maybe Michonne was right to believe Lacey, because- "What..." She was made to stand by, just a spectator like the rest, no way to intervene.

The bindings around Daryl's wrists were cut, and though he tried to put up a fearless farce it was obvious he was shaken, on unfamiliar ground without any weapon or ally around. With his brother at his side whose feelings toward him were... iffy, to say the least. But he was glad it was him rather than someone else who'd been caught. There was always the possibility, and it was '_better me than her/him_'.

"I asked you where you loyalties lie. You said here." the Governor addressed Merle, circling the brothers as he spoke, "Well, prove it. Prove it to us all! Brother against brother! Winner goes free! Fight! To the death!"

And the crowd roared in excitement. What. The hell.

Merle and Daryl were left in the center. Daryl was shit out of ideas, and as previously mentioned, he wasn't sure where he ranked in his brother's good graces. Though they'd gone back for him in Atlanta, he obviously didn't know that, so he probably assumed Daryl abandoned him too. And Merle's loyalties were among the Governor and these people, apparently, so-

"Ya'll know me!" Merle spoke to the audience surrounding them. He wasn't necessarily a people person, but in general he was much more confident among people, others, strangers, than Daryl was. Daryl couldn't woo these people, definitely not with his words. He was fucked. And Merle went on, "I'm gonna do what ever I gotta do! To prove!"

The punch was half way anticipated, knowing one was coming, but where, he wasn't positive. Daryl staggered away, curling in on himself - stomach and insides flaring with pain, aching - falling to the ground from the force of the blow.

"My loyalties!" Merle bellowed and dealt his brother a kick. "To this town!" he grunted with the next kick, and the next one, and the next one.

Daryl didn't and couldn't do much in the way of fighting back, not yet at least, not when Merle just kept kicking him and kicking him. But it was when walkers were being wrangled into the arena when Merle leaned down and Daryl uncurled enough to let his fist fly and land heavily across his brother's face. Merle stumbled away and Daryl found his moment to spring up and try and get the upper hand while he was trying to recover. But it was the same as it always was. Merle was older, Merle was bigger, Merle was stronger. All his life he'd never won a fight against him, and that didn't change now. Merle threw him back to the ground, and Daryl's hands flew up to his throat, Merle's doing the same.

"You really think this asshole's gonna let you go?!" Daryl barked with what breath he had, with the breath his brother wasn't choking out of him as enthusiastically as he expected.

"Just follow my lead, little brother." Merle wheezed out through clenched teeth, "We're gettin' out of this. Right now!" he tugged Daryl up to stand, and back to back they faced the walkers that circled them now. The walker handlers weren't careful with how close they guided the flesh eaters either, putting them close enough that their hands could've caught on fabric, or hair, or skin.

Keenan took hold of one of the wrangling sticks, shoving the handler away and leading the walker in his control nearer to Daryl. He wasn't entirely sure which Dixon he'd like to see end up on top, he honestly could do without either of them (and it didn't matter, they would both die, regardless of who was the victor). Both Dixon men had stolen Lacey from him. Daryl had stolen her heart, somehow made her fall in love with him, love him enough to wear a ring he presented her, and display an unshakable devotion to him even when there was no hope of ever seeing him again. And Merle, he became her guardian while she was in Woodbury, her protector, almost like a shadow, and the way they were together... _God_... He was pleased he'd never have to suffer through seeing Daryl and Lacey together. But still, even if she was already gone, that didn't mean he still didn't want to murder this hick who'd stolen her from him...

Daryl punched at the walker, making it stumble away, but the bearded guy was relentless, looking like he was fueled by a different kind of hatred than the rest. But then the walker crumbled. A bullet through its skull had ceased its animation. Another gun shot, then another. People were screaming in their seats.

A smoke grenade was sent into the ring, and more gunshots filled the air, from unseen sources and from the guardsmen who were carrying. The stadium lights were exploding, bullets shattering the bulbs, the arena became dimmer and darker. With the safety of light escaping them and smoke in the air, the townspeople broke into hysteria and started to flee. Walkers on the loose, smoke clouding the air along with screams, it was chaos in Woodbury, again.

Daryl urged his brother to follow him, swerving through the smoke and crowd toward an exit. On the way, the guardsman who had relieved Daryl of his crossbow took down a slow ambling walker, once the walker fell Daryl snatched the bow from his grip and Merle slammed his apparatus up against the man's skull, knocking him down for the count alongside the dead walker he'd just taken down.

"Let's go! Let's go!" Daryl caught sight of Rick crouched by the edge of the arena, and along with Maggie, the four of them ran along Woodbury's streets toward an empty wall.

"They're all at the arena, this way!" Merle called, disappearing toward the sheets of metal and chain link fence that made up most of Woodbury's walls.

"You're not goin' anywhere with us!" Rick said.

Merle shot back, "You really wanna do this now?!" Daryl, Rick and Maggie were on high alert as Merle shoved and shoved at the seam of the wall, grunting encouragement toward it until it finally gave and groaned as he pushed further and slipped through.

"Rick, c'mon, man, we gotta go." Daryl called and they were all outside the wall, looking on as Merle literally beat the brains out of a walker with just the device covering his stump.

"Little help would be nice!" he howled as more walking dead were closing in, attracted by the noisy chaos within the walls. They took down a few more until Merle was standing up from the ground and started away from Woodbury, claiming, "We ain't got time for this!"

Maggie shot Rick an uneasy look, but he just nodded, "Let's go!"

They were free from Woodbury again, but now came the task of evading the walkers wandering among the dark trees as they moved toward the road where the SUV was, and hopefully where Glenn, Michonne, Sam and Rocket were too.

"Where's Sam?!"

"She's safe! Keeping goin'!"

Traveling in the dark wasn't smart. Traveling on foot wasn't smart. Traveling on foot in the dark through the forest?  
They were more or less a mile out when they finally stopped, but they didn't rest. Their muscles taut, eyes wide and alert.

They wouldn't have time to rest once they got back to the prison either. That night, after all that had taken place, what started? People taken and found. Lines crossed. Blood drawn... There wasn't any way out of it. It was the beginning of war.

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Note: What would I be without my beta? A shittier (yes, an **even **_**shittier**_) writer.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.


	12. Chapter 12

Note: A huge thank you for all the reviews I received last chapter! Holy crap! They all made me feel toasty inside. (And speaking of toasty *ahem*...) This chapter was heavily influenced by food... and music... and television. It's a short one, too, but beta tested and approved! Enjoy!

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"Don't wanna be _all by myself_." she sighed with a partially melodic tone and a heavy groan, shoulders slumping forward as she shuffled with slow dragging feet.

"Gotta keep going. Gotta get back to the hollow." Lacey mumbled to herself and raised her arm to inspect her wound, "Hm. At least the bleeding's stopped. Should be a... uhm... make for a nice little trail." she paused in her aimless walking and tore away at the bottom of her dress. The thing was too long and slowing her down anyway, she'd grumbled in her defense, if anyone was going to ask her what the hell she was doing, but there wasn't anyone around her for miles - she was alone.

The material didn't tear straight all around (of course, she whined internally, because nothing worked like it did in the movies), but the lopsided piece was enough to wrap over her forearm twice, and she managed to tie it off with struggling, cramping fingers and her teeth. The dress lay crooked, jagged and frayed around mid thigh and near the backs of her knees (almost an absurd and warped fishtail look with none of the elegance it normally wound bring forth, especially with those thin, holey leggings adorning her legs and those ever-present clunky boots) - but on a good note, it made it much easier for running now. Why hadn't she thought of that earlier?

Once her wound was properly covered, the material secure in place, she raised her eyes to look ahead and figure out which way she should go - which way she was going before she stopped- but her vision swam and blurred. It had been that way for the past 30 minutes or so; she supposed it was the lack of sleep catching up to her (she was still pretty jittery since leaving Woodbury). The buzzing beneath her skin hadn't really ceased, and she was more anxious than ever - well, more anxious than she's been in the past five or six months. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the dizziness that invaded her vision away, but when she opened them again she still felt like the world was tilted and fuzzy.

"Damn it." she whispered and started walking again despite her fucked up eyes.

"Okay," she shook her shoulders out, fixed her posture, "Focus. Keep my mind occupied, awake... Talking to myself won't be so difficult." she laughed drily, "Let's see... Movie quotes? That'll be good, yeah, for the memory. Okay..."

She continued to tromp through the woods as she compiled a list of movies in her head, then sifted through those she knew more than just the title of and started quoting. _Titanic_ offered her more than a dozen quotes that she more or less recited accurately. From _Titanic_ she moved onto _Edward Scissorhands_, then _James and the Giant Peach_, then to an array of Disney films. After a while she didn't have any order to her quotes, what ever popped into her head, movie clips flashing through her mind, she'd deliver aloud.

"I'm in a tree with a man who talks to monkeys."

"Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City to take back the child that you have stolen. For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great..."

"Why, you slimy, double-crossing, no-good swindler."

"It was a firefight!"

She was chuckling along with her next quote, "A naked blonde walks into a bar with a poodle under one arm and a two-foot salami under the other. She lays the poodle on the table. Bartender says, 'I suppose you won't be needing a drink.' Naked lady says-," her stomach growling loudly interrupted the punchline-less joke, and she whined, "Oh shit." then chuckled again at her perfect choice of words (and thankful she wasn't falling through any ceilings).

During the night of her escape and allowing Michonne some sleep she'd snuck some of her food (_some_ meaning _the majority of_) into Michonne's pack, just in case. It was those damned motherly instincts kicking into gear again. So she didn't have much, but what she had she was saving for later on when the hunger was too much to bear. She'd (hopefully) be meeting up with Michonne again - soon - and with Michonne was most of the food, so she didn't want to waste anything. When would be the next time they had food like this? Crap that was still in pre-packaging - fresh, sort of.

Her stomach groaned again and she mimicked the noise, "God, what I wouldn't do for an Uncrustable right now... or some cheesy popcorn... corn dog... pickle, cotton candy, chocolate bar." she let out a pitiful roar, arms crossing over her stomach as she soldiered on.

Had it been an hour yet? Probably not. (The sun was starting it slow descent.)

When Lacey's mind ran completely dry of movie quotes she started to mumble songs to herself. Some lyrics in the ballpark of what they really were; her mind was becoming ridiculously lazy the longer she walked, substituting words for hums until it was all just humming. Whenever there wasn't any hope of picking up the lyrics again she'd move onto to another song. She had to keep thinking, had to keep her brain working, had to stay awake, had to find Michonne.

The sun beat down hotly on her through the thick branches and leaves, and though it was a wonderful feeling after the bitter cold winter had brought - summer roughly shoving spring time aside to roast the earth until they were thankful for fall and declining temperatures - the heat felt like it was pressing directly on the top of her head, pushing her down. She was grateful for the foliage that returned to the skeletal remains of trees and bushes, but it felt like they didn't do anything in the ways of shading her. Dear, god, the sun was a cruel bitch.

Lacey was yawning through her lyrics. Shaking out the drowsiness from her head, from her limbs, as she grumbled quietly, completely lacking the enthusiasm the song normally had, "_She's saying that's okay, hey, baby do what you want. I'll be your night lovin' thing. I'll be the freak you can taunt. And I don't care what you say, I wanna go too far. I'll be your everything if you make me your star_..."

"You were five years old when that song came out, and Mom loved it. But she was absolutely horrified when you'd run around the house singing it, heh, you'd belt it out regardless of where you were. Five year old girl singing about groupies." there was a pause to chuckle, "Dad adored it."

"Really? You can remember that?" she snorted, "Man, I was one of the most entertaining children. I'd love to see that on video."

"I think Dad did record you singing something once, but it was lost."

"Bummer. If I performed anything like how I do when I cleaned the house on off days by myself, hah-holy crap we're missing out on some grade A gold, brother."

"Yeah..." he snorted.

"Why didn't we have anything of Mom and Dad's anyway?" she squinted as she looked toward him, the light shining unrelenting into her eyes, but she could see the dark outline of him - her eldest brother.

Ben shrugged, "There was a time when we could've had it all shipped to us, or I could've gone up and looked through it and picked what to keep and what not to, but," he shrugged again, such a non-committal gesture that had Lacey rolling her eyes, and she fixed her gaze forward as they trudged through the forestry. "I figured if we had it all, it would be a bunch of clutter we didn't need - and I know, I'm an asshole, but I was like 19 when I made the decision - so it went to charity... And I thought it might hurt us more than help us. Reopen old wounds, ya know? And I mean, we had a couple photos of Mom and Dad and younger us, I thought, eh, that's fine. Right?"

"Always thinking you're trying to protect us." Lacey chuckled as she shook her head. There were tons of things she would have loved to have in remembrance of her parents - but thinking of where they were now, at the end of the world, Ben was probably right, what was the point?

She bit at her bottom lip for a moment before she started slowly, "I..." she trailed off, but smirked, the memory fresh in her mind, "I remember when you used to have nightmares of us dying. During the first year after Mom and Dad... And on those nights you had those dreams - no matter what time of the night - you would wake each of us up just to make sure we hadn't actually died in our sleep..." she looked toward him, a watery smile on her lips, "You're a good big brother, Ben."

"Thanks, Lace." he gave her a tight grin back, but it quivered at the edges, "I was terrified of losing you guys. I couldn't lose anyone else, I-," he gaze snapped forward, and his eyes narrowed, trying to pinpoint something in the distance.

Lacey's puzzled glance followed where his eyes were piercing, but she couldn't see anything.

"Hold that thought." he patted her shoulder, and paused to give her a reassuring smirk, "I'm gonna go up further, make sure the path is clear."

And before Lacey could articulate a proper argument he was already jogging ahead, swerving through the thick tree trunks. She puffed out and irritated sigh, and grumbled, "Some things never change."

She lost sight of him after a minute, but didn't start to worry until after five when he'd yet to return, or her lazy pace had yet to catch up to where he was - where ever he was, fuck.

"Ben?" she whispered, "Ben!" she hissed, more insistent, "I swear I'll start singing Christmas songs, I know how much you _love_ those!"

She gave him twenty seconds to reply before she chose which annoyingly jaunty holiday tune to belt out, "_What a bright time, it's the right time_- Ugh. No. I can't." she deflated.

"Oh, my god, that song blows." whined from beside her, accompanied with a laughing groan. Then fingers fluffed at her locks, and she squirmed away from the touch with a stiff smirk. She looked up at the instigator who was grinning back at her, "Wow. Nice hair, Lace. Hasn't been this short since Jo stuck gum in it. But even then it was shorter."

"It's grown out some." she snatched her hair up in one fist and kept it away from his hand that was still trying to fidget at it, "Hey, Robbie, can you see Ben up there? I think we lost him." she changed the subject smoothly and let her hair loose when he looked forward, trying to peer around the trees and greenery.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek before shaking his head, "Nope. Not seeing him, but I'm sure he's fine. He's a tough dude. Brawny."

Lacey barked out a laugh, "You started calling him that the first and last time he wore plaid."

"It was his own fault. He was totally asking for it with that ridiculous amount of **beard** on his face... Though Mr. Brawny doesn't have facial hair, does he? Either way, the dude looked like a lumber jack and it was hilarious."

Lacey snorted and chuckled, bracing a hand on a tree as she climbed over a fallen log, but an abrupt curse left her mouth, "Damn nails." she groaned. That was the third one, broken. With no clippers or file for miles she settled on gnawing on the nail.

"So what were we doing before singing 80's songs?" Robert asked.

She spat out a piece of nail, and the nail polish that came away with it, "Uhmm," she hummed, nail in her mouth again, "Movie quotes... or... jokes. Let's move on to jokes."

Robert rubbed his hands together, "Man, let me think. I've got a ton of blonde jokes I know you enjoy." he grinned evilly and she simply rolled her eyes.

Robert rattled off jest after pun after mock, and Lacey cackled after each one.

"Okay," she panted through her fading laughter, "I got one. Not one of my own, but still good." she said, and Rob nodded, wiping wetness from his eyes, mouth stretching in a painful grin. She cleared her throat before she began slowly.

"A bear and rabbit are taking a shit in the woods." Lacey put her hand up when Robert's face took on a look of recognition, she kept going, "The bear turns to the rabbit and says, 'Excuse me, do you have problems with shit sticking to your fur?'. And the rabbit says, 'No.'. So the bear wiped his ass with the rabbit." she slapped her knee, and the two fell into a bout of laughter again.

But then a sobering thought occurred as Lacey was rubbing at her sides, "Are there bears in these woods?

Robert looked like he was about to tell her how ridiculous she was being, but then it struck him, too - "Ah... Huh..." he trailed off, truly stumped. And Lacey groaned.

"How _the fuck_ long have we lived here and we don't know anything about anything!" she moaned into her hands, embarrassed and cynical.

She could almost hear the shrug of Rob's shoulders before he said, "We're city kids."

"That excuse has been overused." she grumbled into her palms and dragged them down her face.

"But still." Robert reasoned.

"Oh, my god." she tried not to laugh, and failed. Then she was wondering, seriously, "Where the hell is Ben?"

"We'll catch up to him soon." he responded a little too quickly, then pointed to her arm, and in a strange nearly rehearsed sounding tone he wondered, "Say, what happened to your arm?"

Lacey quirked a brow. He knew what happened, he was there. Why was he being so weird? And why hadn't Ben come back yet? It wasn't like him to storm up ahead and not come back for them. He liked having everyone within his immediate vision and reach. And now, Robert was being a freak.

"I..." she started, but then stopped. The reason seemed to escape her. Like a void in her memory. How the fuck-? "I... Uhm..." her legs stopped moving. Her fingers lightly touched the cloth wrapped around her forearm. Why _was_ she injured?

"Is it a scratch? Or a cut? Or...?" Rob offered.

Her head flew up, eyes wide, "Yeah. Yeah, it's a cut! It cut myself... because..." there was justicification for it, she wouldn't just slice her arm open without - "Michonne! Michonne - she was bleeding. So I cut my arm, so I would bleed too, and leave a... a, uhmm... A trail..."

"Because... Where were you last?" he helped her along, like he...

Like he knew and he was trying to get her to remember on her own...

But why?

Why did he know? And why couldn't she remember? And why was she dizzy again. God_damn_. Dizziness _and_ a stirring start of a headache. If it wasn't one thing then it was another... or both. _Christ_.

Michonne was fighting off people from Woodbury. Woodbury didn't have good people. Woodbury was led by the Governor. "Woodbury..."

"And before that...?"

Those people had taken her, bad people - they were people from Woodbury - they took her there, kept her there... She was in the woods before, though. With Michonne, yes, but there was also... Andrea, and... Sam... And Rocket. And... They were somewhere safe before - at a farmhouse. The Greene's farmhouse, where they thought they could all finally settle down in, but no - because it got overrun, and before that -

Lacey's eyes widened, looking up at Robert before her - he gave a wary grin as he blurred and doubled for a moment before she gained focus again. And she gasped.

"Oh_, fuck_!" she finally managed after a few long moments of stunned, horrified silence.

Robert winced, "Eloquent." But Lacey was gasping, hands shaking as they ran through her hair, and she fought to control her breathing. Robert was encouraging her to get control back, slow breaths, deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the-

"Am I dead?" she panted, fingers deep within her hair, "Am I walker food right now? Is this a sick between world before I come back as a cannibal dead head? Oh god!" she yelled into the trees.

"Nah, you're just freaking out. Something like your subconscious trying to guide you to civilization, or at least somewhere safe, 'cause we are w_aaa_y past civilized in this world. But I don't know. You're also pretty exhausted." Rob snorted, "You're totally Looney Toons, Lace."

"Shut up!" she glared at him, "**You're** part of what ever this - what my mind is creating - this... this _hallucination_. How can you not know what you are?!"

Hallucination-Robert shrugged, "Because you know that I never really understood any of that psychological-medical mumbojumbo."

But he wasn't really there, he wasn't really standing in front of her, not really speaking to her, not shrugging - none of it was real. In reality she was speaking to thin air, speaking to something only she could see and hear. Her eyes stung as they started to water, and she grabbed fistfuls of her hair, whining up to the sun, "F_uuu_ck. I really _am_ crazy. And all alone, and lost, and I can't do this. I can't do this by myself."

"Woah, calm down. It's gonna be alright. Hey-,"

"I don't-, I-I can't-, I-I-I'm, I-," she was really losing it now. All alone and crazy. Crazy and all alone. Suddenly the wide open world, the forest, felt smaller and closing in. The fresh air didn't seem fresh enough, and wouldn't enter her lungs quick enough - her shrunken lungs only took in the smallest amounts. It was the beginning of a panic attack. She couldn't rely on her sight or hearing, she was lost and she couldn't breathe. She wasn't crying though, not yet, and before any tears could fall she felt hands grab her shoulders and swing her around.

Or at least, her mind made her believe Robert had swung her around with a firm grip on her shoulders, making her face him, while he said, "Lacey, listen to me! You're fine. _You're fine_. Listen. Listen! Are you listening?"

She didn't want to listen. This was all just a part of her psychosis, her mind talking to her, making her believe she was really seeing her brother, and hearing him speak to her. Speaking like how he used to, when he was alive, because he always knew how to calm her down - talk her down, though she didn't have frequent panic attacks, he knew that when she riled herself up someone needed to get her back on ground level, and it was always him.

"You. Are. The strongest." full stops - and a slight shake of her shoulders with each. A grin came to his mouth and he shook his head with a shrug, but it was with sincerity, "It's always been you."

He let go of her, taking a step back while he lazily pointed at her, "You didn't give up, you never even gave the darkness a glance. The same can't be said by me, definitely not by Ben. Hell, for a while Jo might've disappeared too. But you?" he was shaking his head with that prideful grin again, "Not you. You were strong, and you got stronger and stronger. You slipped, maybe a few times, but never for too long - you always became steady again. And you taught Jo by example to be strong. You're the smallest but you're the toughest out of all of us. We understood this world - _before_, we were used to loss, used to walking away and moving on until we finally got here. _Georgia_ of all places. But this world, this fucked up place? This isn't what's going to end you, sister. Because you're not weak, you never were. You **can** do this, Lace."

She stood there, stunned, for a few moments before her parted mouth tilted, and she huffed out a laugh, "Wow... My subconscious is pretty good at pep talks."

Robert smiled, and god, did she miss seeing that smile everyday, "You're damn right it is, and it sounded way better in my voice, don't you think?" - and his humor, she missed that too.

And she laughed along with her hallucination until that dizziness struck her again like a heavy blow to the side of the head. She swore and put her hands out to catch herself, feeling like she was tipping over.

"Woah! Company at 1 o' clock." she heard Robert's voice, but when she looked around she couldn't see him anymore, looking in the direction he'd indicated though - her heart beat kicked up, and she tried to blink away the blurriness, the spinning, away from her eyes because - "That thing about walker food? Y_eee_ah, you might be now. Use all that strength, little sister! You have more weapons than you need, now fight!"

There were... _Fuck_. Three? Six? _Goddamnit_! Nine walkers, maybe? Coming her way, stumbling her way. Her stomach curled and churned do to her swimming vision, as if dizziness and walkers weren't enough to deal with, adding a little nausea wouldn't hurt, would it?

"Fuck's sake." she grumbled. And _Jesus,_ she was so off balance she probably could've been mistaken for a walker. But she wasn't, and she wouldn't be, if she focused long enough to kill these hungry bastards off.

She swung a gun around by its strap, getting a grip on it and finding it was the shotgun - shit. She pulled the strap over head and shook off the duffel and the other gun before flipped the shotgun around and swung wildly with the handle end. It connected loudly and heavily with a crack, but then she shrieked as she fell backwards. Flat on her back on solid ground her vision settled for a moment or two, enough that she saw a walker eagerly making its way toward her and about to drop.

She spun the gun around in her hands again and pulled the trigger, and the shot blared and echoed, the walkers head exploded, the rest of the body falling a foot away from her. But the next walker - the final one - wasn't deterred by the act it just bared witness to, if anything it seemed more enthusiastic about sinking its teeth into her. It limped a little more ardently, snarled a little louder, and Lacey squirmed, boots catching and slipping as she inched and scooted across the ground, pumping the handle to get a fresh shell in the chamber. She moved to aim, but the walker was about to fall on top of her. She pulled the trigger - brains, meat and bone sprayed into the air and splattered back to the earth... and her.

A startled, pained sound was forced out of her, the air puffed from her lungs as the headless body flopped onto her. She wheezed for breath, and though she might consider herself somewhat lucky that this particular walker was a skinnier one that didn't change the fact that she had literal dead weight on top of her and she didn't possess much in the way of upper body strength. And a shotgun clutched to her chest too. It _exceeded_ comfort.

With the remnants of adrenaline still in her veins she held tight to the gun and shoved with all the force she had. A throaty sigh of relief left her when the body was off and she could breathe again... But her vision still, for lack of a better word, sucked. And the edges... they were started to get a little cloudy, a little darker.

"Fuck." she panted, still unable to catch her breath even without compression on her ribs and lungs anymore. She was about to pass out, she knew it. She tried to fight it, tried to breathe normal, tried to ignore the exhaustion, to keep her eyes open, force the darkness from taking over her sight. But everything seemed to blur and muffle rather than strengthen and calm. She squeezed her eyes shut.

No... She couldn't do this... This was it. This was-

"That's my girl."

The pounding in her ears lulled enough for her to hear that - or rather - them.

"Wha- Who's..." she groaned as she let her eyes slide open, but her sight was fleeting, the darkness was crowding closer. But then that voice, that tone... that brogue. She wasn't sure if her expression was owlish, she couldn't feel much - and she was feeling less and less as the seconds ticked by - but she knew there were tears (the same tears from before with an added heart wrenching bonus) stinging at her eyes, a prickling at the back of her throat because she recognized that voice. Stored far, far, far away in the back of her mind, she knew, "D-," she swallowed thickly, hating the tears, hating her eyes, the exhaustion; because if she saw Ben and Rob, then she really, really wanted to be able to see - "Dad...?"

"That's right, my wee Blondie."

"Da..." her breath caught in her throat, choking her while tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, "Daddy, I can't do this. I can't do this anymore, not by myself, I can't-," she gasped, containing the sob building up in her chest.

"Oh, no, no, no. Don't say that, no. You can't give up. Not when you've just escaped, and you've come so far. You must keep going. You have perfect instincts, my love, despite what you think, dwelling in the city never put a damper on your instincts."

"But I'm... They made me so weak."

"They manipulated you, sweetheart."

It was like a full on deceased family reunion in her head, and it hurt so much, but almost in a good way - her mind was callous - that was her mother's voice now. And damn it, why wouldn't those stupid tears stop so she could see her and her father. She wanted to see them, feel them - but her limbs felt like they were pinned down by weights, and her eyelids were heavy and getting heavier. She couldn't see the darkness closing in around her anymore, but she still knew it was there, she could feel it crowding around and drawing closer.

"You didn't really think _this_ was enough to break you, did you? I used to receive the most disturbingly graphic, horrifying work texts from you that would've had me sobbing and curled up on the ground if I were you. You've got a lot of tolerance, Lace. I mean... a lot." Robert chuckled.

"But drug tolerance? Not so much. You'd get loopy from half a Norco for your cramps. You're not very good with medication or medicines, spaz. Kind of ironic, since you went into the medical field." She would've flipped Ben off, but it was a needless act; it was her own thoughts speaking to her, mocking her, telling her how it was (giving her the underlying message in those words, helping her realize). She grumbled out a curse to Ben's voice, and she could've sworn she heard his gruff chortling before Robert started talking again.

"You kicked all kinds of ass back in school and after that too. You're goddamn plucky. We were all brave, but you..." Rob paused, chuckling lightly, "_I_ was the caregiver."

"I was the muscle - just a follower." Ben, she could _hear_ the shrug in his words, always with the shrugging.

"Jo's a fucking slayer!" Rob barked, amused, "Apparently all those video games were really good preparation."

"_You're_ the protector, Lace. _You're_ the leader."

"You've got people who miss you, who want you and need you. You can't give up." Dad, he was on her right, if he was really there.

Her mother was on her left, "You're exhausted, but you're still strong."

"Mom..." and she tried to reach out - to what? They weren't really there. None of them were.

"Shh. You're tired, hunny. Sleep now."

"But I- I can't, I've got to meet Mich - I have to... find... her-," her body ignored her words, didn't register any pleas or attempts - she was down and wouldn't be getting up soon.

"Rest..."

"'m sorry..." she mumbled, the exhaustion made her voice thick, sleepy.

Her father clicked his tongue, "You don't have any reason to be sorry. But if you truly want to make it up to us - do us proud - when you wake up, you'll start fighting, surviving, kicking arse."

"I knew you were an asskicker underneath all that sweetness." the pride in her mother's voice, she'd smile if she could - she probably was; grinning dumbly as she slowly lost consciousness with her dead parents voices lulling her.

"That's because she takes after you. Hey- ow! What?! That was supposed to be a compliment!"

"Well it sounded like an insult... Oh, god... Don't start The Lion King quotes, I know you're itching to reference a few, but don't."

"Agh, fine..."

The harsh difference between her father's Scottish thickly accented words and her mother's Western voice (lacking any accent at all), aside from the few words that took on a sharp New Yorker's cant; but even then she'd try to cover it up, force it away. They were so opposite. So posh. So destitute. Sweet and sour, then just completely sweet... She missed them so much.

"Then, what about: Hope guides me. It is what gets me through the day and especially the night. The hope that after you're gone from my sight it will not be the last time I look upon you."

"... Was that A Knight's Tale?"

"She liked that movie. It's inspirational!"

"Oh, Dun."

A whimper of a chuckle shook from her chest. Even if it was all in her mind, it was her parents' banter, something she hadn't been able to truly appreciate when they were alive, something she could hardly remember. But what her mind created with the use of their voices... it was good enough, perfect, even.

Exhaustion took its hold then, and she let the darkness to consume her...

Walkers stumbled by, led by the sound of the gunshot they'd long forgotten had attracted them - just an ambling crowd through the forest waiting for the next sound to draw them somewhere. They gave no sign of interest in the girl lying among corpses - her scent was overcome by the smell of the dead. They kept moving - on and on - until Lacey was all alone again, on the forest floor.

It was the side effects of sleeping agents; slipped into her food or her tea, for five months. It was their _cure_ - The Governor's bright idea - to keep her stable, keep her under their control - and it worked. She experienced the side effects and the possible concerns and actions one might have when taking sleeping pills - unsteady and forgetful - a simple solution to an annoying, little, blonde problem (when he couldn't just kill her instead)...

The sky darkened but she didn't stir or turn. She slept through the night, under a canopy of trees with the stink of rotting flesh as a protective perfume...

And when she wakes by the light of late dawn she will know there are new feelings replacing all her hopeless ones. She will climb up to steady feet, straighten herself out, collect herself, her belongings, and let her feet guide her - Home. She was going home. Because she has the inner strength to do it; this world and the monsters in it - undead or living - wasn't going to stop her.

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Note: Hooray! And shout out to my beta XM for having extreme feels over this chapter - silly girl.

Disclaimer: Lyrics borrowed do not belong to me. Movie quotes borrowed do not belong to me. And The Walking Dead does not belong to me, either. Sigh...


	13. Chapter 13 'Mid-Season Finale'

Note: Much obliged to all that read, review and subscribe!  
EVERYONE PLEASE PAY **ATTENTION** TO THE **NOTE** AT THE **END** OF THE **CHAPTER**!  
_**IMPORTANT**_ INFO PEOPLE!

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Dawn arrived. Rick, Maggie and Daryl had yet to come back. Sam was seated on the roof of the SUV, plucking at the string of her bow. Glenn was on the ground and Rocket sat dutifully next to Michonne where she was leaned against the car. They made it through the forest fine, any threats they faced were nothing they couldn't handle. Sam's eyes and ears were (she felt) just as keen as Rocket's, ready in body and mind. They arrived back at the car while it was still dark, but when the sky began to lighten, there was a small sense of relief - like always.

Sam had her indecisions about killing people (breathing people) but after facing the fire power - the wrath - of Woodbury, and the overwhelming feeling of losing someone, yet again, to that town and its despicable '_Governor's_' clutches... She knew that people sucked, people always sucked, but in this new world they sucked a lot harder, and she (somehow) still believed in second chances... But if they squandered away, fucked up, that second chance, she'd make it so when they went down they sure as hell wouldn't be getting up again. She wanted as many people to live through this shit as possible, but if they threatened the people she cherished-

"Glenn!" the name was called in a hush, and all four of them perked at the noise, looking towards it. Soon enough they could hear and see a few bodies rushing noisily through the underbrush.

"Rick! Rick, thank god." Glenn stood up from the asphalt and hurried around the car, running along the dirt and swerving through trees with Rocket and Michonne right behind him. Sam was scrambling down from the roof and hurrying to catch up when she heard voices raise in warning and others shout in anger and confusion.

She walked toward the commotion, where answers to questions were demanded and weapons were brandished and pointed at a man she'd never seen or met before. Rocket was snuffling at the strange man's ankles, but she wasn't growling like she didn't know him, so he couldn't have been all that strange to them.

"Sam, stay back!" Rick shouted, and she wasn't even a couple yards into the forestry yet. Her legs halted, out of instinct to listen to authority, but her curiosity was far stronger than Rick's stern voice. The others were still squabbling, shouting over one another and Rick was trying to be the mediator. She was getting closer and closer, seeing Michonne and Glenn had their weapons pointed at that man so he was backed up against a tree, with Daryl standing in front of him.

"He tried to kill me!" and that was the loudest Michonne's voice had ever gone, at least by Sam's standards.

"If it wasn't for him-," Glenn started but was interrupted by Daryl.

"He helped us get outta there!"

"Yeah, right after he beat the shit out of you." Rick scoffed, and then commanded Rocket to get away from the man. The dog scurried away, and planted herself next to Sam who stood just a few yards away, arms crossed as she watched it all play out in front of her.

The man's attitude was far too cool for someone who had multiple weapons pointed in his direction, his reply was cool, too, as he offhandedly (heh) stated, "Hey, we both took our licks, man."

"Jackass." Daryl grumbled and the guy rolled his eyes before telling him to shut up. Then the group was back to scrabbling to get a word in. Sam could pick out a few statements, the guy chuckling as he asks if they're gonna cuff him, and she's sure she's heard a story about cuffing someone to something and leaving them behind and - oh. _Oh_, she understood now; why Glenn and Rick weren't too keen on seeing this guy and Daryl was stuck between them - between the group and his -

"Man!" he chuckled, "Looks like you've gone native, brother."

"No more than you hangin' out with that psycho back there!" Daryl turned to him, and it was strange, he seemed different in the company of his brother - a minute shift in attitude, maybe even his posture, too. He was the younger sibling again.

"Oh man, he is a charmer, I gotta tell you that. Been puttin' the wood to your girlfriend Andrea big time."

Sam's brow plucked up, wait a minute-

"Andrea's in Woodbury?" Glenn echoed.

Andrea was _alive_?

"Right next to the Governor." Daryl spat and Michonne raised her blade up to him instead of Merle, and for a moment Sam was conflicted on who to protect, but then Rick was shoving her hand away, putting the blade down, and staring her down. He flicked his gaze to Sam for just a brief moment before he asked Michonne, "You know Andrea? Do you know Andrea? Sam-," he was interrupted by Daryl's brother before he could ask Sam for confirmation on Michonne's relationship with their assumed-fallen friend.

"Yep, she does. Her and Blondie spent all winter cuddlin' up in the forest... My Nubian Queen here had two pet walkers - no arms, cut off their jaws, kept 'em in chains... Kinda ironic now that I think about it-,"

And his chuckles died in his throat when Daryl hollered at him, "Shut up, bro!"

"Hey, man," he shrugged, "We snagged them outta the woods, Andrea was close to dyin'."

"Is that why she's with him?" Maggie asked.

"Yeah. Snug as two little bugs..." he said, a sort of a mocking grin took over his mouth as he eased his back off the tree and took a step toward Rick, "So what'ya gonna do now, Sheriff, huh? Trailed by a bunch of liars, thugs and cowards-,"

"Shut up!" and Rick turned to address the group but Merle was laughing, a cutting laugh.

"Oh _man_, look at this. Pathetic!"

And Sam felt her brow climb a little higher on her forehead. Really? Coming from a man with one hand?

"All these guns and no bullets-," Merle spat out bitterly. Glenn took half a warning step toward him, words of caution almost leaving his mouth but then Daryl was loud and in his brother's face again.

"Shut up!"

And Merle's cool facade finally dropped, "Shut up yourself! Bunch of pussies, you-,"

The butt of Rick's gun connected sharply and heavily with the back of Merle's head; his words cut off and his body fell like a ton of bricks to the forest floor. "Asshole..." Rick mumbled.

"So, this is the illustrious elder Dixon... Huh..." Sam uncrossed her arms and took a step toward the group. She raised the back of her hand to the forehead, "Someone catch me, I may swoon..." her tone was humorless, though she still offered a small grin.

But then Rick was looking at her with an expression that if he were her father and she was seven years old again she would be a little worried - like she'd left some incriminating evidence out against her and he found it and now she was caught, and would soon be facing the time-out corner - but why was he...? Oh... Andrea. Not deceased Andrea. Right...

"Somethin' you wanna say?" and the question was aimed at her and Michonne, but Sam stuttered to speak first.

"I would've mentioned it, being with Andrea, too - I-I, uh, I told Daryl, and I told him about what happened to Lacey the last time I saw her, I was goin' to get around to telling the rest of y'all but, uhh - but what with Mich showing up all by her lonesome, I figured... maybe Andrea..." she rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, "I mean, she was really sick, and I didn't want to - you know..." she trailed off, biting down on her bottom lip, "And Amy... I didn't wanna rip open that old wound just to pour some salt in it, you know?"

Rick had passed her as she eloquently pleaded her case, and the others trailed after him, Sam included.

"You've had more than enough time to tell us what happened and who you were with." Rick barked lowly.

And that made Sam stagger to a halt, "Woah, I don't think that's really up to you, how much time _I_ needed." and her legs managed to start moving again when Michonne touched her shoulder. She looked to her friend, and Sam's brow was scrunched in with a flood of emotions, what the hell-? Even Maggie seemed a little stunned by Rick's biting words, but nobody moved to step between Rick and Sam and Michonne. They all stood in the street, spread out, and away from the car.

"Well, clearly we now know where you learned your evasiveness from." Rick gestured to Michonne, but she didn't appear at all affected by it - not until he made a beeline toward her, "What else haven't you told us? Huh? Any information you _forgot_ to mention?"

And Sam was forced to step in front of her friend again, acting as a barrier between her and a feral Rick, "Hey, easy-," but Rick wouldn't be calmed, not this time.

"No, Sam, stop! I know she's your friend but she's not ours! She hasn't told us everything," his blazing gaze shifted over to Michonne, "What else do you know? And you're just givin' us pieces of it? Who the hell do you think-,"

The teen pressed her hands to his chest, trying to get him to back off - sick of the fatherly bullshit he was pulling on her lately - "Rick! Calm down!"

"Sam, go to the car!" Rick shouted and Sam's hands fell. That was it, she was fucking done - she wasn't a child, she wasn't _his_ child. She fixed him with a glare, and turned on her heel with a scoff as she walked back to the SUV and clambered on top of the hood, she criss crossed her legs and folded her arms over her chest. The glare never leaving her eye, not even when Rocket trotted to follow her and sat beside the drivers side wheel. She didn't want to be treated like a child, and she didn't and couldn't act like a child - not anymore. But the way Rick was toward her…even Daryl gave her more room to breathe and grow; he trusted her.

She thought finding the group would be the best thing for her, but now she was starting to reconsider it. She wasn't going to do anything drastic - not yet at least, not unless provoked - but this was seriously getting close to final straw.

Rick sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face before he turned to Maggie, Glenn and Daryl. Sam could be pissed at him all she wanted, Michonne wasn't staying with them, and a decision had to be made about Merle... A blatantly obvious decision.

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Jo was making his way through the gate with Beth and Judith when he heard the tail end of the conversation Hershel was having with the strangers. Just like everyone else, he was wary of them, especially around the younger ones and Hershel. He wasn't too worried about Amy, Sophia or Carl, but when Beth had her hands full with Judith, he couldn't help but become a second shadow.

Hershel had just finished up tending to the wounds of the newcomers, nodding an affirmative when asked about his lost leg - if it was because he was bit. They all felt loss, but kept going; they all made sacrifices to keep going. Jo was very much aware of the stares from the strangers firmly on the baby in Beth's arms; he'd kept Honey and Erin away from sight, away from the bars of the gate that separated the block and the common area. And with Honey adamant about walking now, it was fairly difficult to keep her in one place these days.

"How old is the baby?" the woman asked, and she wandered over closer to where Jo was helping Beth, grabbing for what she nodded to.

"Barely a week." Hershel supplied.

And the woman hovered just a foot away from Beth, peeking over her shoulder to get a look at Judith, and Jo tried not to feel or appear anymore protective that he already was, "To be honest, we thought we'd never see another baby." she said as she glanced back at her group members, then looked at Jo, Beth, then Judith, shaking her head with an air of disbelief, "Beautiful."

Jo smiled awkwardly while Beth, ever polite - just like her father - replied sweetly, "Thanks." and turned back to her task.

"How are you feeling?" and the woman looked from Beth to Jo, and back again, looking at them like they were- like Judith was-

Beth whipped around, wide eyed, startled, she looked to her father before she looked to Jo, seeking help - and Jo's eyes were just as wide as hers, and he shook his head.

"She's not mine." Beth finally said.

And Jo added, "No, no. I'm shacking up with a different blonde, the one that's on watch." he chuckled (awkwardly. He was still pretty young to be mistaken for a father, and Beth - wow, no).

The woman nodded, understanding her mistake, it seemed, but then she asked, in reference to an absent Amy, "She's the mother?"

It grew quiet, that certain kind of quiet when all the breath and noise leaves the room because everyone is suddenly aware that they've brought up something they shouldn't, something no one wanted to talk about, something that didn't and shouldn't be dwelled on. Jo shot a glance at Carl and the boy swiftly ducked his head, avoiding his eyes. And Jo sputtered, "No... Uhm... Lori, she..." he trailed off, and that was all that needed to be said - preceded by that bout of silence, it was painfully clear.

Her eyes grew wide, and it could almost be seen the way she internally collapsed in embarrassment and empathy, "... I'm sorry."

Beth glanced at Jo before she grabbed the things she came in for and quickly stepped across the floor and left, Carl held the door open her for as she swept through, back into the cell block. He closed it and the bigger, the dark skinned man - Tyrese - spoke up.

"Man, you people have been through the mill."

"Haven't we all." Hershel huffed with a dry chuckle and pulled himself to stand with the aide of his crutches.

"You're the only decent folks we've come across." the woman said. They didn't doubt it, they were probably the friendliest people of the apocalypse, which wasn't really something they liked to advertise. In this world friendliness could translate into weakness. Looking around, Jo figured that between the new group and his group, his was the more well off - even if right now his group consisted of mostly children, himself, a couple hardened woman, a convict, and a crippled old man. They may not seem all that intimidating but they were strong - very strong.

"You've been out there all this time?"

"Our neighbor - Jerry - he was one of those survivalist nuts." Tyrese explained, he appeared thoughtful, almost chuckling at the memory, "Everybody on the block thought he was crazy, always preparing for the end of the world."

"Who knew?" Hershel smiled smally.

"Jerry knew. He had a bunker under his shed in the backyard. Sasha and I stayed there until we ran out of supplies. Alan and Ben were the first two people we ran into when we finally crawled up outta that hole, around Jacksonville. Used to be a bunch of us. 25 at one point." Tyrese said.

"Our camp was overrun, six, seven weeks ago." the woman - Sasha - added.

"And... And Donna, she, uhh..." Tyrese stammered slowly, and they each sent a careful glance to the body covered with a towel in the corner of the room.

Jo felt a strange swoop in his stomach at the sight of the dead woman's body; he was knew that pain, he understood their sadness, but there was a flutter of joy knowing that Lacey would be back soon. She wasn't dead - after all this time - she would be back and they didn't have to dig that hole they'd planned to. His sister was okay, and it was a breath of fresh air in the constant pollution of death and agony that surrounded them.

"We'll see that she has a proper burial." Hershel said.

Tyrese's gaze flew up to the old man and he gave a nod of thanks, "I appreciate you taking care of us. For a while we didn't know who we were dealing with."

"Neither did we." Jo snorted, sending a pointed look in Sasha's direction, and she looked away, abashed.

"We've had our problems with people." Hershel stated in partial explanation. These people didn't need to know more than that - they didn't need to know anything they didn't want them to know.

The dark man puffed out a laugh, looking around at the grey bricks all around them, "I must be the first brother in history to break into prison."

Axel stepped up beside him, having busied himself with making some proper food for the new people, he was delivering a bowl to each of them, he passed one to Tyrese as he said, "Makes me the first white boy that didn't want to break out." a grin came to his mouth and the others laughed. The former inmate passed the final bowl to Sasha before wiping his hands on his trousers and walking into the cell block.

"Tyrese." Hershel started carefully, and his troubled tone caused each of them to look up at him, "Like I said, we have a much larger group, a close knit group. I wouldn't get too comfortable here." he warned as gently as possible and he headed toward the gate, to the cells. Jo followed him, and stepped through the threshold, waiting for him and Carl.

"We wouldn't be a problem." Tyrese offered.

"It's not up to me." Hershel said, and Tyrese flicked his eyes over to Jo, but he just shook his head, it wasn't up to him either.

"Then who?"

Hershel turned, leaving it at that, hobbling through the gateway, and Carl went after, pulling the gate with him.

"Please. You can see what kind of people we are." Tyrese reasoned, but Hershel was gone from sight, and Carl was locking the door - and it echoed with finality.

Jo dropped his hand on Carl's shoulder as they walked further into the cell block, away from the distraught, pleading eyes of the new people - the visitors.

.

.

"It's not gonna work." Rick stated. They were at for nearly 20 minutes now, and it was still the same thing. Rick says no. Maggie and Glenn say no. Daryl says yes.

Daryl retorted, "It's gotta."

And it went back and forth, like a tennis match. And Sam and Michonne couldn't hear a word, but they looked on anyway. They watched and tried to read lips, but they were muttering so quickly it was too difficult to single out any words.

"He'll stir things up."

"Look," Daryl started and took a step forward, "The Governor's probably on his way to the prison right now. Merle knows how he thinks, an' we could use the muscle." he pled his brother's case (which he honestly didn't think he _had_ to do - seriously).

Glenn stepped up sharply, his voice just as sharp, "You really want him sleeping in the same cell block as Sam, Carol, Beth-," Daryl interrupted him before he could continue listing anyone else off.

"He ain't a rapist."

"Well his buddy is." Glenn spat back. (And Maggie was looking at him, looking at him like she didn't even know him, but he didn't notice.)

"They ain't buddies no more. Not after last night."

"There's no way that Merle's gonna live there without putting everyone at each other's throats." and judging by what went on a little bit ago Rick was probably right - with the group as a whole it would most likely become more violent, more threatening, and just fighting all around.

"You're gonna cut Merle loose and bring The Last Samurai home with us?" Daryl gestured widely toward the car, and they all followed it to see Michonne leaning up against the driver's side door, arms folded and hanging over the side mirror and Rocket sitting at her feet.

Sam raised her middle finger toward them when they all looked toward her and Michonne - it all felt strangely childish, or like high school. Like the cool kids were whispering about them, the loners, and that felt all too familiar to Sam. Daryl narrowed his eyes briefly at the action before turning back to Rick.

"She's not coming back." the leader stated evenly.

"She's not in a state to be on her own." Maggie cut in.

And even Glenn spoke up in her defense, "She did bring you guys to us."

"And then ditched us."

"Least let my dad stitch her up."

Rick shook his head, "She's too unpredictable."

"S'right, we don't know who she is... Merle, Merle's blood." Daryl said with unshakable certainty, like that would settle it. But it didn't.

"No. Merle is your blood." Glenn said, "My blood - my family - is standing right here and waiting for us back at the prison."

Rick was nodding along, "And you're part of that family... He's not."

From a couple yards within the forest Merle groaned awake, and stood up with assistance from a tree. His hand touched at the back of his head as he stood on unsteady legs, trying to regain his balance.

Sam glanced Merle's way at the sound of him rousing. He beat up Glenn - bad. But he got Daryl, Rick and Maggie out of Woodbury - good. He was going to execute Maggie and Glenn under orders from the Governor - bad. He had useful information on the Governor and Woodbury and was (supposedly) a powerful ally to have on their side - good... He was Daryl's brother, and Daryl was fighting for him, and Sam... well, she didn't know which way to lean. He hadn't done anything to her (directly) to warrant hate or love from her - at the moment she nothing'd him. But she didn't like the idea of kicking him to the curb while they burned rubber back to the prison. Leaving him all alone, weaponless... one handed (again).

"Man, y'all don't know..." Daryl said, but none of the stern expressions on his friends faces wavered, "Fine, we'll fend for ourselves."

And that was just several steps backward, "That's not what I was saying."

"No him, no me." Daryl stated staunchly. Maggie tried to reason with him, while Glenn couldn't believe he was really being this way, making this drastic decision.

"And what do you want us to tell Carol. Jo? The..." he huffed as he paused, glancing around for a moment before he hushedly added, "_Your_ girls?" And Daryl seemed to bristle at that, because yes, they were important to him, and that was a low blow, but he knew they were in good hands, and he had something else in mind too, this wasn't just about Merle. But Glenn went on, "Sam's standing right over there, and you're just gonna leave her?"

Daryl shot a glance at Sam, she'd be pissed, but she would understand. She was good like that. "They'll understand," and when no one else made an attempt to say anything more he nodded to Maggie, "Say goodbye to your Pop for me." and walked toward the car to get the rest of his stuff.

"Daryl, are you serious? Daryl!" Glenn called after him, but the hunter kept walking.

Rick, who'd stayed quiet since Daryl made his ultimate choice, caught up to him, "Hey. Hey, there's gotta be another way."

Daryl paused, but then kept moving, shaking his head, "Don't ask me to leave him. Already did that once."

He and Rick passed Sam whose brow scrunched as she watched their every move toward the tail end of the car, and Michonne eyed them too, continually petting Rocket as she and Sam tried to catch a glimpse of what the men were mumbling to each other.

"We started something last night. You realize that."

"No him, no me. That's all I can say." Daryl said as he pulled up the hatchback and took out his pack, "Take care of yourself. Take care of Li'l Asskicker. And Carl..." he said as he fit the straps over his shoulders, "He's one tough kid."

"Do you know what you're doin'? _Who_ you're leaving?" Rick hissed accusingly.

"Y'all ain't rememberin' that she," he nodded shortly in the direction of Michonne, "saw Lace last, and that was **yesterday**. We know that now. We know she's still alive out there-,"

Rick rolled his eyes, cutting Daryl off, "You still believe that after all the shit she's kept from us. All the shit she's still keeping from us?"

"Sam told me they knew each other. She ain't lyin'." Daryl shrugged, adjusting the straps on his shoulders and fixing his crossbow in his grip, "I gotta go after her. Merle's the best tracker I know, we'll find her and -," he shrugged again, "Maybe you'll let us back in with Lacey's good word on Merle."

"So that's it, huh?" Rick nodded in faux-acceptance, "Just like that? You're just gonna go runnin' after ghosts in the woods while you got two girls back there? And what am I gonna tell them? What am I gonna tell Jo? Carol? Sophia? What am I gonna tell those girls - that-that their father chose his no good brother over them?" and he scoffed, a bitter laugh on his tongue, and it stung Daryl more than he let on.

Rick shook his head and sighed, "I might as well just tell them you died, spare them the betrayal along with their heartache."

Daryl's expression didn't crack, his mouth was in a firm line, and he started off the road and into the trees, "I'm gonna find her."

Glenn called after Daryl one more time before the Dixon brothers came together and walked off with just one glance backward and then left from sight.

Rick's stony face turned into frown and he took his gun and tossed it into the trunk, Maggie passed him hers and slammed the hatch closed with far more force than was needed. And as he made his way to the driver's side door he practically snarled in Michonne's face, "We patch you up, then you are **gone**." and Michonne's normally unbothered guise flickered away for a moment as she opened the back door and started to climb in.

But Sam was still on the hood, and her confusion only grew as she watched everyone begin to settle into the car, because - what the holy hell? Daryl just walked away without even a goodbye, all he gave her was a look - a look that appeared like he knew she knew what, like an entire, extremely detailed message was shared between them and she _should_ know what the fuck was up, but apparently the send failed because she had no idea what -

"Woah, woah! What the hell!" she shouted from the hood, legs uncrossing as she slid down the front, and her feet touched to the ground, "Where's he going? Is he - are they coming back? What the fuck is going on?!"

"Watch your mouth." Rick scolded sharply.

Sam squeezed her eyes shut and took a breath before she looked at him again and calmly asked, "Tell me what's going on. Where are they going, why did Daryl take all his sh-crap and - what _is happening_?"

Rick sighed tiredly, "He's gone, Sam."

Sam's mouth fell open, and she looked between Rick then to Glenn in the front seat and Maggie who was hanging out from the other side's back door, looking on with a sorry expression, "Wha... What?" her voice cracked, "What does that even mean?"

"He's gone off with his brother because Merle Dixon is not a good man and he's not someone we can welcome into our group." he rubbed a hand over his brow, his eyes closed momentarily as he added, "And he's got this idea that he can still find Lacey out there."

"He- he's going off to find Lacey?" she stuttered with wide eyes and snatched her bow from the hood and her bag from the ground, "Then I gotta go with him! I have to!" but then Rick grabbed her arm, keeping her still.

"You aren't going anywhere-,"

Sam swung around, untwisting her arm and shaking Rick's grip off her, "No, I am. I have to be there, I have to be with him, I have - We have to find her." and for a moment she sounded a little odd, and she noticed it, too, and shook her head, "It's just like all those months ago with Sophia. You didn't believe we could find her." she tossed her arms out, like the proof was in front of them (rather than at the prison), "And we did! _We_ **did**! And Sophia's still alive because we still believed and we found her. She's still alive because we didn't give up hope, and I sure as hell am not giving up on Lacey-,"

And it was this thing that they didn't understand (they couldn't understand), and she would've tried to explain it to them, but there wasn't any time - there was never enough time anymore. Nine months ago she stumbled through the trees, running for her life along with her little lost boys and found salvation in the form of three strangers - three adults: Ben, Lacey, and Daryl. There was a connection there - instantly - not visible to the naked eye, couldn't be touched, but it was there. Ben was gone, and then (assumed dead) Lacey was gone too, and all she had left was Daryl - he was the last one, and she couldn't lose him too. They saved her, and it was only right, she thought, to save them back. They were her friends, they were her family, they were what made her tough. If Lacey could be saved she wanted to be there when it happened, she wanted to be the one to find her. If Daryl was leaving she had to go with him, she just had to. And now Daryl was leaving to go search for Lacey, and she couldn't be kept away from that - nothing, **no one**, could keep her from it.

"Sam, you are not-,"

"You can't make this decision for me, Rick." Sam said it like she was apologetic, but she needed to do this, no matter what. Glenn had his face in his hands, and Maggie, she looked like she was about to lose it, but she seemed a little more accepting. Then there was Michonne who'd slipped out of the car and stood on the interior floor to look over the roof, she gave Sam a slight incline of a nod, and Sam knew that to be her okay to go. Sam gave Rick one last glance and started into the woods.

She barely passed the first tree when she heard Rocket trot after her, then trail alongside her - and that was fine. But then she heard Rick bellow her name, and when she turned she startled slightly, seeing him closer than she expected him to be, and the goddamn look on his face, along with the way he'd called her, it finally set her off.

"I am _not_ your little girl, Rick!" she groaned like she couldn't believe she had to tell him this, "_Your_ little girl is back at that prison, waiting for you, with _your_ son." she pointed vaguely toward the direction of the prison.

"You're choosing a man you don't even _know_, over your own family-," Rick hissed back, and Sam was quick to cut him off.

"Yes, you're all my family. And Daryl is my family - and I know Merle is Daryl's family, and that Lacey trusted Merle, befriended him... I can't go back to that prison without either of them." she shrugged, and looked down as she brushed a hand over the top of Rocket's head, "When you send Mich packing let her take Rocket with her." and that was said with malice.

Sam told Rocket to stay, and her tail drooped, ceasing its wagging. The hound whined but obeyed, and Sam bit her lip, trying to hold back a smile.

"You don't have to do this." Rick urged quietly, and that was his begging.

Sam looked at him and hefted the strap of her bag around her shoulder a little more comfortably, "Neither do you."

And he knew what she meant by that. He knows but he doesn't waver or realize the mistake of his decision. He's losing his two bowmen, he's going to lose an excellent swordsman as well as a brilliant former police dog, but he won't break, won't bow and give people a chance.

"See you around."

It's not a goodbye and it's not a promise.

Sam walked a good 30 paces before she heard the SUV's engine turn over and start, then the tires squeal along the road. She listened as it faded into the distance.  
This was her decision. This was the right decision, she convinced herself as she quickened her pace to catch up with the Dixon brothers.

.

.

Lacey grumbled out a whine, regaining consciousness and quickly - and unwillingly - began to stir awake; she was half way prepared to tell Merle to fuck off and shut the stupid blinds so she could sleep some more but it - the situation at hand - struck her none-too-gently. She scrambled to sit up, gasping as she took in her surroundings and remembered very clearly all the events that led up to where and why she was settled on the ground in the middle of a who-the-fuck-knows-where Georgian forest.

Her eyes were slightly bleary but came into focus a minute later, and it was such a relief to have her sight in proper working order again, but in seeing what surrounded her - ick, she was just proud of herself for fighting and killing those walkers before passing out like some little damsel.

She remembered her hallucinations, every word they spoke - though very much aware that it wasn't _their words_ per se. She made a promise to them (essentially to herself) and she was going to keep to it.

All that dead weight from the previous day (or however many days she was passed out on the ground, if it were up to her stomach it'd assume she was sleeping on the ground for the past week - she was starved) disappeared from her limbs and she was able to stand up easily, just a minor tremble in her knee caps. She was standing solid a few moments later and ready to go.

She rummaged through the corpses' pockets, just to see if they had anything of value to help her out. She came up with a lighter, everything and anything else was covered in an essence of ew that she didn't even want to try and salvage. And she felt a curt moment of shame when she craved a smoke during all of this, even ridiculing one of the headless bodies in her desperation, "What the hell are you even carrying a lighter for if you don't have anything to smoke," she sighed, stuffing the lighter into her bag, "I'd smoke just about anything at this point."

Then she was chuckling at the idea of herself maybe nine months or even a year ago slapping her across the face for smoking. But times were different now, smoking wasn't the worst of problems; there were far, far, far worse things than smoking. But her past self would probably scoff and pluck the stick from between her present self's lips and crush it into the ground with the toe of her shoe before lecturing her... And that was a mental image she lingered a little too long on. She shook away her ridiculous thoughts and gathered and checked over her gear.

The shotgun was out ammo - she thought she'd snagged some shells for it but that entire night (the night of the escape) was such a blur she probably just blindly grabbed whatever and stowed it away - so with nothing to reload it with she decided to leave it behind, lessen the load on her back. There were a coupe of magazines for the rifle, and the Glock had one more too.

She tore another jagged strip away from her dress to replace the makeshift bandage on her arm. She paused to assess the wound and thankfully found there was no sign of infection (so far). She was fine, totally fine - capable - she could do this. She could find her way, even if it didn't lead her back to her family, she would be okay, she would manage on her own for the rest of her life if she had to (though she hoped she'd reconnect with _someone_ at one point - but not just anyone, no way, stranger danger, _seriously_). She just couldn't give up. Not again.

Once in Woodbury, and yesterday counted as the second time; there wouldn't be a third time, because she wouldn't lose herself again.

She straightened herself out, stored the rifle in the Sheriff's duffel, kept the Glock in hand, and hauled the strap amply around her shoulder.

She was fucked in the ways of knowing which direction was which - the sun already too high for her to get an inkling of where east was. But she figured getting herself out of the woods would be best - her head was a little clearer, maybe, but that didn't mean she still wasn't spooked among the labyrinth of endless nature. She'd find a road and follow it, surely a road would lead to something - anything - better than the forest. The forest wasn't her friend when she was alone, but with someone else who could navigate it, she didn't mind it that much. But her brain wasn't conjuring up any mirages to keep her company, and even if it did it didn't change the fact that she really was by herself. The thought was unsettling, no matter how optimistic she forced herself to be. She was dreading the thought of stumbling upon a library, being the last woman on Earth, with all the time in the world to just read and read and read, and then her glasses would break... Figuratively speaking, since she didn't wear glasses, and... oh, television references were simply wasted with no one to share them with (she really missed tv).

She chose a direction and stuck to it, remembering Daryl grumbling something about them being in Georgia, not the goddamn mountains of Tibet.

A grin came to her mouth as she thought of the rest of the group. From her little ones to those she didn't have a heart to heart with but knew they would always have her back - and she would have theirs covered too.

But then her mind ultimately returned back to thoughts of Daryl. To the first time they met (and she snorted attractively at the memory), socking his brother in the face, then making friends and swapping stories. Realizing that maybe more than friends was something they could do... Then the first kiss in the woods, then the stolen kisses that came after, slowing pulling him out of his all around awkward shell and then that _other_ first time in the woods. She felt herself flush recalling it, remembering how cocky he was after (it was adorable, and refreshing to see him display some self confidence).  
The way he was with Honey, the way he worried about her, about both of them. Seeing the scars for the first time, already knowing his rough upbringing, but telling him the way he looked didn't matter, and his past simply made him a stronger person. Then bringing in Erin, then losing Sophia, then the farm and discovering the goddamn, stupid, ass voicemail from Keenan before Daryl went out on his own and almost died making her realize that she was fucked because she was totally in love with this dumb ass, emotionally constipated red neck. And then she was an asshole, snubbing his attempts at affection and empathy when Ben and Rob and the children that came with Sam died. But they made up and Sophia was found and then, surprisingly, he ended up saying 'I love you' first and he gave her a goddamn ring before she strode off to play rescuer again. Only she didn't come back like she promised, like he knew she would...

But she was coming back now, somehow, some way, she was going home, going home to her group - to family, to him. She was fueled by the snap shot memories flashing through her mind like an old movie reel. She was walking home, and sure, she was a little weaker than before, but nothing would stop her - she would become strong again, she would, again, become the warrior she once was.

She was the walker, and she was walking to Daryl.

Lyrics to an old song she could hardly remember were quietly falling from her lips as she stepped with sure footing and a steady pace. "I'm not worried 'bout sleeping, 'til I see your face... There's a dust storm approaching and everything will change. And I'm tied to you. Baby, I'm on my way. I'm on my way..."

.

"Daryl!"

The hiss was like a blaring alarm in the otherwise quiet ambience of the forest. Both Dixon's turned toward the noise. And it was followed by a slew of quiet curses accompanied by less than stealthy steps through the underbrush. But Daryl knew that voice way before the girl it originated from tumbled through some bushes toward them.

Merle muttered in a confused (though there was a minor hint of amusement that wasn't well hidden) tone, "What in the hell-,"

"Oh no, _hell_ no." Daryl's groan was strict, but the tiny smirk at the corner of the girl's mouth didn't falter as he continued with one hand pointed in the direction where she came, "You turn your ass back around and go back to them." he ordered, gravely serious.

But the teen just shrugged, "I can't. They're already gone. And this is _my_ choice." and by then she stood just a couple feet in front of them.

"Well, hot damn. Got ourselves a rogue archer, huh?" Merle laughed, "Who's this one anyway, doesn't look familiar. What's your name little sister?"

Daryl cursed under his breath when Sam quickly shot him a glance, smirking.

"Sam." she answered, smothering the smirk.

"Sam." Merle nodded, "Huh..." he chuckled, a finger pointed at her, almost wagging as he said, "Y'know, you remind me of someone, girly."

.

.

The group made it back to the prison without any sort of problems, aside from a road block in the form of a truck. It was something that would've been an easy fix by itself, but then Glenn let out his aggressions on the driver-turned-walker in the cab. He wanted vengeance, he wanted the Governor to suffer and feel his pain for what he did to them - what he did to Maggie - and he'd do something himself if Rick wasn't man enough for the task. Needless to say rest of the drive back home was a quiet one.

But upon arrival - what should've been a much needed and anticipated respite - they were instead faced with a new problem. There were new people in the prison, they'd found their way in through the destroyed side but were now contained - locked within the common area. And though they seemed like a fine group of people, it was up to Rick on whether or not they kept them and integrated them into the group, or kicked them back out onto the road. But that was a matter that could be dealt with later, right now Rick owed the rest of his group an explanation.

Explaining the events of the previous night concerning Woodbury and the Governor was relatively simple. Explaining why they were lacking Daryl and Sam, as well as Lacey, was a bit more trivial.

"They left? They just-," Amy's breath left her in a gust as the realization sunk in. Erin was in her arms, and she hugged around Amy's neck, burying her face away from sight, letting the tears sinking in her skin. Carol was there by their side in an instant, wrapping her arms around both of them, "They're just gone?" and though she fought against the weepy tone in her voice it still broke through. Carol shushed her quietly, and Sophia raised her hand to intertwine her fingers with Erin's - she was grateful for the gesture. (Honey would be a different problem... It took a while for her to quit her whinings and wonderings for her Mama - now, undoubtedly, she'd do the same for her father.)

"And Lacey?" Jo raised the question cautiously, he had so much hope, and now - "Did they...? I mean, is she... Is she-,"

"She wasn't there." Maggie said, Jo was already on the brink of tears, he couldn't manage to say the word, but it was all that filled his head - dead, killed, murdered. His shoulders slumped in almost-relief and he nodded to Maggie in thanks, "So, she's okay, probably?"

"Far as we know she's out there somewhere, Daryl's set on findin' her - Sam, too." Rick said, but before anyone could feel any sort of semblance of hope he continued, sharp tongued, "But that doesn't mean a damn thing while we've got a problem with the neighbors next door."

.

.

"C'mon, we're wastin' time."

"For what? We can find food 'n shelter day 'r night, what're you-,"

"Lacey, of course. She knows how to climb trees, now, or," Sam paused in thought, "At least she knows that it's best to be up in a tree at night, I don't know if she ever got the chance to actually practice climbing... But what I mean is, she's got good enough survival instincts to make it through the night on her own, just in case we don't find her before it gets dark."

"What the hell're you talkin' about?"

"We're lookin' for Lace, man."

"How do you know-?" Merle's confusion was replaced by sympathy, something that could even be considered close to sorrowful, "She went over the wall a couple days ago. She-," he shook his head, and both Daryl and Sam were startled by this display of emotion - Daryl more so, "She's... 'm sorry, brother, but she's gone."

Once that utterance was out in the open a flood of questions followed, but Sam spoke up before any could be verbalized, "Woah, wait. Mich said Lacey found her and they were together up until yesterday afternoon, how would _you_ know if she was dead?"

Then it was Merle who looked completely aghast, "What..." his tone was absent of emotion, deadpanned, "She was with _**her**_?"

"Wait, hold on. You were in Woodbury with her, with Lace?"

"Since she was brought in, I was the one takin' care of her the whole time, 'til she bailed and ran off with that goddamn-," Merle groaned in aggravation, "And when I was out there I didn't even know she was gone with that crazy black-,"

"Okay!" Sam halted his words before he could insult her friend, "Focusing! Michonne said yesterday afternoon was the last time she saw her, and she'd cut herself to create a new blood trail so it wouldn't lead to Mich, she was trying to guide them to her rather than..." Sam slowly grew quiet with a thousand yard stare in her eye, and it was a few moments before she finally muttered, "You..." and her eyes pinned to Merle, and he inclined his chin with a look of confusion, "You were hunting her. That's why she was so scared of you. It was you!"

"Easy, sweetheart. I was just followin' orders."

Daryl grabbed her as she lunged, "It's your fault! You and that psycho bastard! You fuc-,"

"Sam!"

She tried to shake free from Daryl's iron grip, "Don't you get it? He was a part of what kept her from us! What kept her prisoner in Woodbury-,"

"Hey! She wasn't no prisoner! I was keepin' her safe!"

Daryl let go and Sam surged forward, shouting over Merle's words, "-If he hadn't gone after Mich they would probably have both made it to the prison! We would've had her back!" she brought an accusing finger close to his face and in a stinging snarl said, "If she's dead out here it's all on you."

Merle's expression flickered before outrage took over, and he swiped Sam's hand out of his face, "I was keepin' her safe, goddamn it! I was protectin' her! Don't you go accusin' me of shit when you don't know nothin' about what's gone on! I didn't help her over the goddamn wall, I was always the one tryin' to stop her..." his enraged tone faltered, and he was shaking his head like before, rueful, "Girly wasn't right in the head anymore, she... She needed to be..." he squeezed his eyes shut - that double dose, that's why he was sure she was dead out there, somewhere.

"Needed to be what?" Sam prodded, but kept a safe distance between herself and the elder Dixon, "Kept quiet? Kept chained up?"

Daryl dropped a hand on her shoulder, "Sam, stop." he nodded toward Merle when he looked up, "What're you sayin', bro."

Merle's fist clenched and unclenched a few times before he finally spoke, "Girl was... Your girl, she wasn't..." he sighed, "She was a danger to herself and the rest of the town."

That was startling new information, maybe a little more startling than Merle's new range of displayed emotions.

"She just needed to be... I was just tryin' to keep her safe."

Sam replied a minute later when Daryl seemed to be stunned into silence. "What did you do." it wasn't so much as question as an accusation, and she saw Merle kind of flinch at it.

"Doesn't matter. She was on her own since yesterday out here, she couldn't'a made it through the night."

Sam's eyes narrowed, "You're so sure... I think I know a different Lacey than you do."

"I think you're right." Merle grumbled. And then Daryl was stomping off, disappearing into the greenery, and Sam sighed.

"The Lacey I know is still alive - she's a fighter, and we're gonna find her. I don't suspect she had a lot of time to become acquainted and knowledgable of the forest since you allowed whatever it was to happen to her happen," Sam said and started off in the direction Daryl went, "You're the best tracker around, so you're gonna help us find her. Dead or alive, we're gonna find her." she stated with such conviction that even she forgot she was only 15 years old.

They tromped through the forest after Sam explained the direction Michonne had told her she'd come from. They didn't have a map, just their senses and assumptions. They didn't find her before nightfall, and while Daryl and Merle took semi-comfortable places on the ground, Sam took a perch high up in a tree, sleeping easily until it was her turn to keep watch.

.

.

Two gone off, one (technically still) lost, one killed in the line of fire, and one unwanted totally knocked out in one of the cells, but Rick wasn't finished with this shitty day just yet. There was the worry over the Governor's possible (inevitable) retaliation on the prison. And as Hershel so slyly added, they could use reinforcements if they were going to defend the prison; he was referring to the ones just in the adjacent room. The group of four waiting in the common area for him to give the yes or no to, and though he already had his mind made up he still had to hear them out.

There was a stab at formal, but Rick cut to the chase and started questioning the leader, Tyrese (the others were Sasha, Alan and Ben - and there was uncomfortable twinge at the mention of the name Ben, like an old war wound acting up again after being healed and rehabilitated so well). It went from question, answer, question, answer to just plain listening as Tyrese tried to sell him and his group to Rick, tried to offer and plead and say all those nice things that generally ended in a deal, sealed with a handshake, but Rick wasn't hearing it. He said no, and he said it again, explaining that they had been through this before, mixing with other groups - it didn't end well; prime example, the group that they stumbled upon when they first entered the prison. But a defense was made that Oscar and Axel weren't like Tomas or Andrew (and Tiny probably wasn't either but he didn't survive long enough for them to know).

Hershel pulled Rick aside and pled with him that though his leadership had kept them alive this long, and they were grateful and they owed him their lives, he was wrong on this particular decision; he needed to start giving other people a chance again. And then that grave shadow over Rick seemed to lift, and he clapped a hand on Hershel's arm with an expression that read like he got through to him. But as he turned, raised his gaze along wall that visage that could almost be considered friendly stuttered, then disappeared completely.

The dark cloud that cast a shadow over him wasn't back - it was like a whole goddamn sky of storm clouds took over as Rick started to mutter under his breath, staring up high at a piece of the wall. He turned and paced and turned and muttered and none of it made sense until he was shouting, "Get out! Get - Get out!"

To the rest of the group it appeared that he was shouting at the new group to leave, but they couldn't see what he saw, they didn't know what plagued his mind that had gone days and days without rest. They tried to talk some sense into him, but the instant his gun was pulled out everyone was jumping away, tensed, all while Rick continued to curse and scream about, "You don't belong here! Leave!"

In fear of their lives, and in fear for them, too, Glenn ushered the group of four out of the C Block common area, urging them to go. And even after they were gone Rick continued to wail unintelligibly.

The prison was supposed to be their new home, it was supposed to be their greatest find and how they would continue to survive and try to make a life through all the shit that was their new world.

But it wasn't that. Not at all.

Because things never got better. They only became worse.

.

.

"The Glock is out." she puffed and shoved the spent gun into her duffel, "The rifle has one and a... half magazines left... And _I_ pried a revolver from the hands of a dead man and shook his corpse down for any extra bullets. _Why, Lacey, dear_, I'd say you're getting back into the swing of things in this mad world quite well. Oh, _nonsense_, you're far too kind." she chuckled and chastised herself for being such a weirdo.

Lacey spent the night in a shed beside a burnt out husk of what used to be a modestly sized cabin. Peering through the shattered window she saw a charred pile of skeletons in what was probably the living room. She found the dead man leaning against the door of the shed, slumped over with back of his head complete gone and rotted all around. She winced and tried not to think too hard on what had most likely happened - walkers broke in, or the family was turning, the man had to make a break for it and set the house on fire, then in his grief, or maybe he was turning, too, he turned his own gun on himself and pulled the trigger... maybe.

She tore the gun from rigor mortis clenched fingers and tried to slip past the door without moving his body - it would act as a good deterrent should any walkers amble by. The shed didn't have much within it aside from a wide variety of saws, none of which were all that accommodating to tote around. So she stayed there, nibbling carefully on what food she had until it grew dark. Sleep didn't come to her and she clutched to her rifle much like the dead man outside had held to his gun. Between one blink and the next she found it was morning and shimmied through the foot worth of space the jarred door offered and then frisked the dead man for anymore ammo. There were two in the cylinder, and - praise be to something - he had more than a handful of extras in his pocket.

And so she left that little safe haven. It didn't do any good to linger when she was determined to evade walkers and Woodbury henchmen and make her way home... where ever that was. The same song from the previous day, the one she didn't even know how she knew, was still on her mind, humming or singing it under her breath as she walked.

But then she stopped, and would've cursed as loudly as she could at the sky - if she could - when she came a water's edge. She cursed only because she was running low on water and didn't have any kind of pot or pan to boil some in before she could drink it... and she wasn't desperate enough to swallow down bacteria and who knows what else that's been festering in the gently trickling current.

"Okay so where now? Found a river - stream - creek - whatever - but not a road. Cheers to me for finding a body of water though, heh." she glanced down both ways, upstream and down, then kneeled down to wash her hands, that wasn't a bad idea, seeing as she man-handled a corpse earlier.

"Maybe following the river will connect to a road - I mean like a road that goes over it or something, and then follow that somewhere... _Hey_, good thinking." and with her hands on her knees she eased herself to stand. Now was the tough part, which direction...

.

They were on - what Sam eloquently put it as - one of their potty breaks. She didn't at all hide that fact that she absolutely relished destroying any attempt at manly-men-time Daryl and Merle tried to exude; they called her little sister, so that's how she would act - a badass but annoying little sister they never (always) wanted. Sam had scurried a few trees away for some privacy - and when Merle got into that stance in front of a tree, that had her bolting - but from where she was she could hear their voices like grumbling murmurs.

"Man, ain't nothin' out here but m'squit'as and ants."

"Patience, little brother. Sooner or later a squirrel's bound to scurry 'cross your path." Sam rolled her eyes, Merle always made the extra effort to remind Daryl - hell, everyone and anyone - that he was the older one, the _wiser_ one; like with just age came more knowledge and experience - though that wasn't always the case.

"Even so that ain't much food."

"More than nothin'."

"Have better luck goin' back to one of them houses we passed back on the turn off."

"Is that what your new friends taught you, hm? How to loot for booty?" Her brow scrunched. That's what everyone's had to do, one way or another, to survive during the past year - scrounging and scavenging. Who the hell does he think he is, Mr. High-N-Mighty?

"We've been at it for hours... We find a stream - try our luck with some fish." Sam's nose scrunched in disgust, she never liked fish, no matter how desperate, her tongue always refused and wondered if there was any nutritional value in dirt, because fish - yuck-no.

"I think you're just tryin' to lead me back to the road, man. Get me over to that prison." Not without their supposedly crazy-totally lost-wrapped up in a short, blonde package-counterpart, they weren't.

"Got shelter... Food... Pot to piss in, might not be a bad idea." Yeah, after we find Lacey, Sam's internal voice agreed.

"For you maybe, the kid, too, but there ain't gonna be no damn party for me."

"Everyone will get used to each other."

There was a pause and Sam strained to listen for whispers, but there weren't any. But then Merle spoke up, "They're all dead, makes no difference." and her stomach dropped so heavily she felt it in her knees. Her fingers clawed into the bark of a tree to keep her vertical as she continued to unabashedly eavesdrop.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Right about now he's probably hostin' a house warming party, where he's gonna bury what's left of your pals..." Fucker! Sam's nails dug into the bark, chipping little pieces away. "Let's hook some fish, c'mon." How could he just say something like that? To his brother? About the people he's grown so close to over the last eight months? How-? Each person at the prison was special to him, but none more than his girls, his little girls who he didn't abandon (he'd said that to her, almost like a reminder to himself), he was just trying to find their mama so he could bring her back to them and... well... the rest of the plan wasn't exactly thought out, but it was a work it progress, playing it by ear sort of thing. First thing was first - find Lacey, obviously, then go from there.

"Sammy, you done?"

She jumped at the sound of Daryl calling her, and unsurprisingly, she didn't really have to pee anymore. It was almost like losing her appetite, only with her bladder. But she faked it anyway, she needed another moment or so to compose herself, "Gimme another half a minute!"

"Ain't got all day!" her eyes narrowed on nothing in particular. Merle... How could Lacey find the guy tolerable when his own brother barely could?

"Hey, I'm a girl! I don't get the luxury of just whippin' it out through my fly, simple as that - these things take time!"

She heard the distinct sound of a dramatic sigh.

"And maybe the sound of your pee scared away my pee, huh? Ever think of that?" that was it, she had the snark back in her tone, in her attitude, she could face them again.

"Just go already!" that was Daryl and she had to bite her lip to keep from chuckling.

"I'm done, I'm done! Sheesh."

She made her way back to the men and pulled her pack over her shoulder, fixed her bow into her left hand and nodded the all set to Daryl. He started away without a word and as Merle stepped to follow Sam's free hand moved in front of him and kept him stationary.

"You're lucky I believe in second chances, bucko." she muttered, and she wished her words of warning could've come off more menacing, if only she could've maintained more level of eye contact instead of tipping her head back to glare up at the elder Dixon.

"What? What did I do?" he asked, half way affronted - an act, though, he wasn't at all threatened by her, not like he should've been.

"You've got one strike." she said with one finger raised, gaze cold and unwavering, but Merle's mouth only curled up at the corners. "You better be careful is all I'm sayin'." Sam said, walking away and picking up into a jog to catch up with Daryl. She heard Merle snort from behind her, but she didn't linger too long on it, he had one more chance then after that he would be her enemy - and she had a new policy on enemies.

.

.

After Rick's melt down the previous night more problems were starting to pile up. And without their competent leader to give his decisions of action, it was up to Glenn and Jo to take up the leadership role. The two boys were usually just runners - they weren't really men of action... in that way. But they had to step up and act like it then. Glenn was drawing out a top view ground plan of the prison with chalk on the floor and asking Carl where he'd found Tyrese and his people. Where he indicated proved that they could be facing another defect in the fence, which ultimately resulted in a breach in the prison. Walkers could be wandering in by the dozens.

And while on the topic of their subpar offenses and defenses, the Governor was brought up and how they wouldn't be able to stand up to his retaliation. But maybe he wouldn't come, maybe they rattled him and he wouldn't fight back. But Michonne made it very clear that he wasn't a man to be trifled with, and if you hit him once he'd hit back twice as hard. He had a collection of fish tanks with heads in them - walkers and human, his trophies. He was definitely coming.

Glenn made the suggestion that they hit back before he could, get him when he least expected it, sneak back into Woodbury and pump a bullet into his brain. He'd do it himself if Michonne just showed him the way.

Maggie left after he said that, turned back into the cellblock and walked away. And where Jo was usually on the same level with Glenn's ideas he wasn't so much in accordance with this one. He didn't know anything first hand like Glenn, Maggie or Michonne did (probably Lacey too), but from what he could tell, from what he could see from just the sight of friends, this fucker was bad news. Yes, he needed to be dealt with, but going back into hostile territory and trying to exterminate the king in his own castle, it just pulsated with bad vibes. And they were just a few, when he had a whole town at his disposal, no doubt he was mobilizing units as they spoke... so, maybe leaving the prison was the better decision. Escape with their lives, or stay and die - that seemed about the size of it.

But that topic of discussion would be left for later, after Carl and Glenn came back from the tombs and confirmed that they were stuck between a rock (the Governor supposedly on his way) and a hard place (a steady stream of walkers flowing through the down fences and walls). And it was only a matter of time before one of them caught up to them.

The prison was no longer the refuge they had dreamed it could be. It was a new challenging hell. But Glenn was adamant about staying and fighting. He was fed by a different sort of rage than the rest of them. Revenge fueled his fire, preventing him from considering any answer besides seeing the Governor dead. This would put a bump in the road for him since Maggie didn't approve of the plan, but he was too blinded by his anger to think (or even pause to hear) of anything else.

For now they just needed to assess the damage that was the fallen fence on the administrative side of the prison, and try and take care of it, before the next shit-storm rolled in.

One problem at a time.

.

.

"Smells to me like Saw-Hatch Creek." Merle panted, using his hand for support as he climbed and stomped over plant life. Earlier, Sam nearly made the passing comment that maybe he was getting too old for a romp in the woods - nearly - but she exchanged it for a teasing comment about the 'quiet town life' making him soft. To which he replied she better shut her trap before he shut it for her. She took the joking threat in stride and chuckled, though Daryl didn't seem all that amused. For that matter, he'd become much quieter since yesterday - though generally speaking he wasn't a man of many words, this seemed out of character enough for Sam to grow concerned.

"It _smells_ to you? You can identify a creek by its scent? You're full of shit." Sam said, eyes trained on where she stepped, they were trekking through tricky terrain - getting closer to water if Daryl's lead was right.

"Sure you can smell it. Clearly you ain't the outdoorsy type. Just take a big whiff, little sister, just a big breath-," Merle explained and took in an obnoxious inhale - and exhaled just as ridiculously.

She scoffed, "Uh, hi? Tree climber extraordinaire? And I wasn't the right hand man, heh, to a tyrant for the past eight months, I was like freakin' Pocahontas out here." she took a short breath in through her nose, "But I think my sniffer's out of commission do to the constant scent of death in the air, I don't smell anything."

"I can smell it," Merle assured her, "And it's Saw-Hatch."

"Nah, we didn't go west enough. If there's a river down there it's gotta be Yellow Jacket."

Sam tuned out the brotherly feud as she paused to catch her breath. Tromping through the woods was easy enough, but trying to keep up with people whose strides were longer than hers - it gave her reason to stop and take a few breaths before moving on... and promptly losing her footing just as she heard Merle snidely remark, "I may have lost my hand, but you lost your sense of direction."

Daryl had a hold of Sam's forearm and plucked her up from her rut, mumbling, "Yeah, we'll see." in response to his brother, while at the same time giving Sam a wordless wondering if she was alright.

She nodded and they caught up with Merle as he chuckled - huffing - and asked if he wanted to bet.

"Won't bet nothin'. It's just a body of water, why does everythin' gotta be a competition with you?"

"Woah, woah, take it easy, little brother. Just tryin' to have a little fun here. No need to get your panties all in a bundle."

"You think Lacey's instincts'd take her to a river?" Sam wondered, but then she snapped her mouth closed when Daryl raised a hand in a motion for silence. He peered around the vast forest when a cry pierced the air and Sam strained to listen too as it sounded again.

"You hear that?" Daryl asked. A distant, echoing cry, but a very distinct kind of cry.

"Yeah, wild animals gettin' wild." Merle summed.

But it wasn't. Sure, some animal sounds could be mistaken but - "That's a baby."

Merle scoffed, "Oh, come on, why don't you piss in my ear and tell me it's rainin' too. That there is the sound of a couple 'coons makin' love sweet love, y'know what I mean?" he broke off into a small bout of filthy chuckles that went unheard as Daryl nodded for Sam to follow him. They broke through the tree line and were at the edge of a creek, and not too far away there was a bridge for a rural highway - unsurprisingly clogged up with abandoned cars. There were two men a top the empty flatbed of a truck fighting off walkers, and the sound of the crying baby amplified louder. A walker was knocked off the bed, off the side of the bridge and into the water. They didn't look like they were fairing well.

"Hey! Jump!" Merle called up to the struggling men, and laughed. Daryl gave him a short look before moving back through the trees and toward the road. Sam leveled Merle with a glare and took off after Daryl, pulling out and arrow and knocking it ready. "What?" he called at them and stomped to follow, but not at all quickly or hurrying to help the people on the bridge. In fact, he was berating them for going to the aide of strangers who've never helped them before; not wasting time, energy or ammo on strangers was his policy, and he shouted that they'd be wise to adopt it, too.

.

"They say time will bring us hell. And there's nothing you could do. But I'm tired of living a memory, so I'm walking to you." her voice cracked and waned as she stepped along the slippery bank of the stream. She walked along the river-stream-creek-whatever for the past two miles; she was a long way from the tree hollow she was supposed to meet Michonne at, that was for sure. And she chuckled at the thought, of course she couldn't even navigate her way back to a goddamn tree; all the trees looked the same, to her, millions of them, against copied and pasted plant life surroundings. But she was glad to find the river-thing, because at least then she knew she wasn't actually walking around in circles (she wouldn't put it past herself to do something like that, she was just that hopeless in nature).

But then there was a sound. A sound different from her nonmelodic voice, or her manic mutterings and giggles, or the wildlife within the trees, or the tinkling of the water beside her. It sounded a lot like - "A baby...?"

Her feet stopped, boots crunching into the dirt and pebbles once more before they were quiet, still. She listened; she could hear the birds and other creatures, but then pushing them aside could definitely hear that distinct sound - "No way. A baby? No. My mind's just fucking with me again." she scoffed and started to walk again, boots crunching and sinking into the soft dirt and stones along the soaked water's edge. "_Yeah_, but what if it's _your_ baby, hmm?"

And that halted her for a moment, "My... My baby? Honey? It could be her...? _Maybe_, but that _is_ the sound of a baby crying... But what if it isn't? What if I'm hallucinating again?"

She was chewing on her lip, while she talked to herself the crying didn't cease.

"But what if you aren't?"

Her heart pounded faster in her chest and the hold her teeth had on her lip was bordering on painful. But then she groaned and broke into a run, pulling the rifle around and getting it comfortably in her grip and she ran toward the sound - or at least she hoped she was running toward it, rather than away from it, it was hard to tell in this space.

"It's always children, children will be my downfall," she griped, "But children are the future, still, even in this world. Children. Are. The future. Better my life than theirs." she panted as she pushed her legs to pump faster...

And boy, was she right about that sound being real, because she caught up with some others who heard that sound too, others who were drawn to it, but for completely different reasons (more like a dinner bell to them).

The walkers heard the baby crying but they could smell her so close - and wow, there were quite a few of them, all of them turning to her as she skidded to a stop just a few yards away from them.

"Oooh shit..."

.

"Hey, hey!" Merle called after Sam after Daryl dove into the thick of it. There were walkers on - and more of them coming to - the car where a woman and the crying baby were encased. Sam didn't pause to look at him, just drew her arrow back as he said, "I will give you a dollar for every head shot you make." and it was sarcastic and smug, and she rolled her eyes for half a second, keeping a target in sight.

"What the hell am I gonna do with _money_, dude. And headshots are the only shots I make." she answered and let her arrow fly and before it even sunk through the walkers skull she had another arrow fitted to go, pulled back and released as she moved along the cars. She climbed up to the top of a broke down Jeep and took care of the walkers that ambled toward the men and Daryl while they were occupied with others.

There was one shuffling toward Daryl and he didn't have a bolt prepared - and it wasn't in Sam's range - but Merle finally stepped up and took his gun and shot it down when Daryl moved out of the way. There was one more and it was almost on the older man and Sam was about to let another arrow loose but Daryl was there, shoving his knife through its head and kicking it over the edge and into the river below.

Sam clambered down from the roof of the Jeep and ran to fetch her bag where she'd dropped it just before they stepped onto the bridge. She was busying herself with checking the knife hanging from her hip (Lacey's knife, she tried to keep it on her at all times, and if she lost it, man she'd go berserk - it was still there, still within its sheath), then trying to remember how many arrows she had and how many she used while plucking them from the heads of the deceased when she heard it before she saw it, "That ain't no way to say thank you." Merle had his gun pointed at the older of the two men, and it seemed like they only spoke Spanish. Sam knew enough Spanish to get by, but she learned that back in 7th grade, so she wasn't about to try and communicate with these strangers. Besides, it wasn't them that needed communicating, what the fuck was Merle doing?

"Let 'em go." Daryl rumbled from the other side of the car, and Merle huffed out a short chuckle before tucking his gun away and saying, "The least they could do is give us an enchilada or somethin', huh?" and then he was waist deep in the back seat of the car, rifling through their things. The woman and baby were still in the front seat, the baby having quieted down, but the woman was still somewhat hysterical.

Sam plucked a couple more arrows from the dead, glancing between the two men who could do nothing but watch as Merle picked through their car, then to Daryl. Yeah, this was his brother, but this shit wasn't right, and he knew it - that's what her eyes expressed to him as he moved around the car until he was near Merle. He looked to his brother's hunched over form, then to the strangers. They hadn't even asked for help, and now this was happening?

He pulled his crossbow up, aimed at Merle's back, "Get outta the car."

Merle's shuffling ceased, "I know you're not talkin' to me, brother."

"Get in your car and get the hell of here." Daryl told the men as Merle uncurled from within the car and turned to him, "Go! Get in your car!" Daryl urged them and they snapped to it, rushing to get into the tightly packed car and rolling away in reverse, back onto the road that wasn't blocked. Daryl had the bolt aimed at his brother's face until the the car was gone, and Merle brought his hand up to shove it away, but Daryl took it away before he could touch it and walked off.

It was far quieter even for an abandoned highway in the middle of Georgia with dead still shambling their way - uncomfortable. Daryl snatched up his backpack from the ground, sliding it over one shoulder and walked down the bridge picking up a bolt and a couple of Sam's arrows along the way until he reached the road and veered off back into the forest. Sam spared Merle a quick glance, but didn't meet his gaze, she just ran to catch up to Daryl, quietly thanking him when he handed over her arrows.

Merle wasn't far behind.

.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" with one hand intently rummaging through the duffel for the extra magazine Lacey walked backwards with two walkers ambling aggressively toward her.

.

"That shit you doin', pointin' that thing at me?!"

"They were scared, man."

Sam was doing well keeping up with Daryl's long strides while Merle trailed behind them. She tossed a look over her shoulder for a beat, keeping her eyes forward as she said, "And thanks for the assistance by the way, wouldn't want you to twist anything while they got walkers pinning 'em down, no."

"They were rude is what they were. Rude and they owed us a token of gratitude."

"They didn't owe us nothin'."

"It's called common decency."

"Oh yeah? Wouldn't'a expected that from you, raised by a goddamn savage." and Merle kept going before Sam could respond, but she stopped, and fixed him with a glare as he moved on to Daryl, "You help them people outta the goodness of your heart, even though you might die doin' it - is that somethin' your Sheriff Rick taught you?"

They both stopped when Daryl turned on him, "There was a baby!"

"Oh, otherwise you would'a left 'em to the biters, then?" Merle nodded in mock understanding, and there was an underlying tint of accusation.

"Man, I went back for ya. You weren't there! An' I didn't cut off your hand, neither - you did that! Way before they locked you up on that roof. Now, you asked for it." Daryl let him have it, and Sam was sure that had been pent up inside for quite a while. There was a warm feeling of pride in her stomach, but it was swiftly swept away when Merle was chuckling drily with a hostile twitch in his eye.

"Y'know what's funny to me? You and Sheriff Rick - like this now, right?" he twisted two fingers together in front of Daryl's face, and there was something in Merle's expression that Sam couldn't read but Daryl could, because the next moment he nodded to her, "Sam, scout up ahead."

"Are you sure-?"

Her cautious wondering was interrupted when he nodded again, "Go on." and she walked away from the brother versus brother stare down. It scared her how small Daryl looked, though he and Merle were probably the same height, same kind of build, but... Merle had this presence, and it...

Daryl was always like the biggest, toughest guy she knew, and now seeing him like this... it was wrong. She wandered up ahead until she couldn't hear their voices. Heart still rapidly pounding in her chest though she knew neither would kill the other... probably...

Merle's gaze pierced Daryl, but the younger didn't break under it, he met his gaze with equal fervor.

"I bet you a penny and a fiddle o' gold, hm, that you never told him that we were plannin' on robbin' that camp blind."

Daryl faltered, but just for a moment, "It didn't happen."

"Yeah, it didn't. All because you _fell in love_ with a helpless little blonde thing."

"Lace ain't helpless."

"I was talkin' about the baby." Merle said drily, but then laughed sharply, "But hell! You were smitten with that leggy nurse the first time she smiled at you, you easy, pathetic-,"

"So did you!" Daryl cut him off, "Keepin' her safe? You didn't even do that with me. **Ever**. Like when we were kids, huh? Who kept who safe? Who left who then?"

"What! Huh?! Is that why I lost my hand?!"

"You lost your hand 'cause you're a simple minded piece of shit!" and Daryl made to walk away, but Merle was fueled by rage and he grabbed him.

"Yeah?!" He shoved his brother to the ground and the backpack strap slipped off his shoulder, he gathered a fistful of his shirt and pulled; the loud sound of a rip filled the air and Daryl's shirt was in tatters, the back torn away, "You don't know!" But then he halted... Because he saw the marks, the scars. And he knew exactly how and why, because he had some of his own.

"...I-I didn't know he was..." and he didn't know, how could he know? He was never there - like Daryl said. Daryl struggled to get the torn piece of cloth back up, shield the marks from sight, but it was a pointless effort.

"Yeah, he did. He did the same to you. That's why you left first." His shirt was hopeless so he gathered up his things from the ground, slipped his arms through both straps of the backpack and stood up, absolutely hating the way his voice quivered and broke.

"I had to, man. I would'a killed him otherwise." Merle was still shocked still as he watched Daryl walk off, and then he felt something else in his stomach - though the shame still lingered - a pinch of fear, "Where you goin'?!"

Daryl stopped and looked at his brother, "I'm gonna find Lacey, with or without your help. Then I'm goin' back where I belong."

"I can't go with you..." Merle muttered, and his eyes had a glossy sheen, "I... I tried to kill that black bitch... Damn near killed the Chinese kid."

"He's Korean." Daryl corrected - and so many hearts would've swelled with pride.

"Whatever. Doesn't matter." Merle's voice creaked, "I just can't go with you."

And Daryl sighed, "Ya know, I may be the one walkin' away, but you're the one that's leavin' - again." and he left to seek out Sam.

He wasn't sure how far she wandered off (he hoped far enough that she didn't hear any of that), but he didn't have any worries about her life, she took good care of herself - she'd proven that more than enough times. But then there was another sound, and just like the sound of the baby crying, it captured his interest. It didn't sound like animals, he knew those sounds well enough, but it sounded like a struggle, and the closer he seemed to wander to it, the more sounds he could distinguish. There was the struggle, grunts and groans of a living person, the growls and moans of the living dead, and the sound of muffled beatings.

Possessed by a heart of gold he ran toward the sounds of distress.

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"Holy fuckballs! Really? Really?!" she cursed, and grunted as she forced her leg straight, shoving her boot against the walkers chest and sending him stumbling away while she struggled to fit the new magazine in. It was ridiculous how long it was taking, but nothing was clicking in, and she didn't want to risk using the revolver when it wasn't fitted with a suppressor. That sound in all these woods...she was already fucked as it was. All the walkers that had been drawn to the wails of the baby that was long gone were now focused on her.

"Seriously?! What the fuck are you all even doing in the forest? Seriously!" she barked, then whined when she had to resort to the revolver anyway. The two in the cylinder were quickly spent, dropping two walkers but there were still three more.

"God! Maybe I should've grabbed a hack saw while I had the chance, Jesus!"

Lacey stowed away the revolver and dropped the rifle's magazine and pulled the strap over her head to brandish it like a bludgeoning weapon, "For fuck's sake." she breathed and knocked the first one to the side.

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Daryl drew nearer and nearer, and heard the sound of a curse, and it definitely sounded female, but it wasn't Sam, and she worked from distance, careful ranging, why would she -

Now, that definitely wasn't her, those were two very, loud, echoing gun shots, but the struggling sound continued, and he picked up his pace.

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Lacey bashed the last ones head open with the butt end of the rifle, and struck it again for good measure and sighed as she stood up slowly. The hairtie had fallen from her hair and left a curtain on blonde in front of her face when she hunched over to deliver the final death blow to the last of the living dead stalking her for her _delicious_ smelling flesh. She tossed her hair back and through her bleary vision she checked her surroundings, that was the last of them, right? Until others were attracted by the two shots she popped off a few minutes ago.

It's a habitual reaction to raise her gun, poised to shoot - and that's what she did though there wasn't any ammo in it - she had another one in her sights... But it wasn't right, because this one was either stuck or shocked into stillness (unlikely), but even then, walkers weren't in the habit of carrying weapons - but especially not crossbows...

Her eyes cleared and her heart thudded hard then stopped before kicking up into a rabbit pace, and she let the gun caked in gore hang loosely from her grasp as she laughed.

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He found the woman just as she smashed the walker's brains in with the end of her gun. Her blonde locks were a wild mess as she stood up again, puffing out a sigh the hair moved with it until she flicked it all back and paused for a brief moment of serenity.

He assumed her to be just a stranger, his brain told him automatically that he didn't recognize her - she was just another stranger to help; but then he noticed individual things that he did recognize. Like the hair, the eyes, the boots, and when she started to laugh, this sort of half way humorless, dry kind of laugh, that was sort of hysterical at the same time, he recognized that too, and the voice. After he noticed the shining glint of a ring beneath dirt and blood it all came together. He doesn't just see it separately, he saw it all together, saw all of her, all at once and - holy shit...

That delirious smile on her lips... How did he not instantly know it was her -

Her chuckles were airy as they tapered off - eyes firmly on him, she took a breath before she uttered, "Sorry I'm late..."

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* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or the lyrics or quotes I may borrow.

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Note: First of all, I would like to say that this is, in fact, not the end. I say again, **NOT THE END**. I'm considering this my mid-season finale. ONCE AGAIN, I'm **NOT****DONE****WITH****THIS****STORY**. I'm far too invested in it to just drop it. But I will be taking a mini hiatus from it.  
I'm not positive on how long, but I'll offer... maybe a month without updates...? Maybe. I don't know, at least three weeks I'll say...  
I figured this was the best spot to stop. I know it's kind of evil, but AT LEAST WE ALL KNOW THEY'VE FINALLY FOUND EACH OTHER, RIGHT? We can all rest a little easier ;)  
But just in case no one was listening before.

THE STORY IS NOT OVER. I WILL BE BACK WITH MORE. DO NOT EXPECT ANY UPDATES FOR AT LEAST A MONTH. COMING BACK. NOT DROPPING THIS STORY!

I already have plans for chapters to follow, I just need a little break. So stick with me guys! There's much more fun to be had (by fun I, of course, mean - drama, drama and more drama, with a pinch of snark).

I also want to thank my beta, she helped a lot with this chapter and I'm so freakin' appreciative.

So see you guys in three weeks-ish!


	14. Chapter 14

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He ran to the sound of struggling; the sounds becoming clearer the closer he got. There was a grunt, like a muted roar that over powered the growling of the walker, then a sickening crunch of something hard connecting with something else - a body part, the skull, no doubt. Then shorter sounds of effort preceded each smashing sound, there was a curse and then the same sounds again, and then he was there. He could see through the trees he found the woman fighting off walkers - singlehandedly it seemed - she was on her own with five walker corpses, heads well smashed, brains spilled out, around her. He arrived a little too late, but seeing as she was fine on her own he made a move to bail, sneak away without making himself known... But the stranger caught his attention.

His feet brought him closer rather than away as he watched this capable wanderer huff and bask in a moment of peace after she flipped her wild blonde locks away from her face.

She was covered in a thin layer of sweat, dirt, and grime. And she was wearing a goddamn dress - though it was it torn up to a place close to her knees, it was still a goddamn dress; _no one_ was wearing dresses these days - _no_ one. Her frame was slight, but it looked like she hadn't struggled in a search for food for quite some time; given how scarce food was becoming she looked almost healthy.

He didn't recognize her, this unknown - she was obviously competent, obviously dangerous, and couldn't be trusted. He needed to go before she saw him. But no matter how much his brain tried to convince his body to move, it didn't, because though he didn't know her, she was in possession of things he did recognize. Something in the back of his mind nudged at him to keep staring at her like some apocalyptic-Peeping-Tom-creeper, and as he did it was like pieces of a puzzle fitting together.  
He didn't know her, but he knew those boots, though they looked far more aged than before he knew them - they were always half laced - on or off - always stationed by her feet when she slept and packed a hell of a kick with that steel toe. Blonde hair, he was always on the look out for blonde, and she had the right kind of blonde - though there was dirt, grass, maybe a few twigs, and a bit of gore caked in it. It was longer; he remembered her emerging from the barn with her locks freshly chopped, much shorter than the long tresses she originally sported.

When she swung up her gun to aim at him - he barely flinched when seeing it wasn't loaded - he saw her eyes struggled to zero in on him, but then he saw the color. Green. The green he forgot, but on more than one occasion that color visited him in his dreams - he could never recall it in his waking hours. And he felt so ridiculous for forgetting that brilliant color, how _could he_ forget it. But then she seemed to come into focus (he came into focus to her) and a laughed bubbled out of her throat.

It was something manic and disbelieving, almost, but it was enough for him recognize her voice even before her laughter faded off into airy little coughs and she said with a lopsided grin, "Sorry I'm late."

He noticed the glint of silver beneath dirt and blood on her finger, and it was with that last small feature it all came together and would've - and should've - jabbed him in the gut knocking the air from his lungs.

It was her. It was Lacey. Lacey Black. The woman who maintained the extraordinary ability to make him feel things. Like right now he was sure his heart was going to pound out of his chest with a flood of different emotions. Disbelief, happiness, fear, pride, hesitation, joy, but above all - relief.

He felt like an asshole for thinking it was impossible, but she was standing in front of him, just ten or so paces away, alive, and breathless - after her laughter, which was no doubt her emotions getting the better of her, and due to fighting off five walkers all on her own. Yes, this was definitely her, even if there was a minuscule glint of panic in her eyes that he couldn't recall seeing before, this was her, beyond question.

Lacey brought a hand up to her hair and ran her fingers through before she clenched a fist full, "Aw, fuck, if this is another cruel hallucination I'm going to be super pissed off," she winced.

Then the shock that had frozen his legs and the disbelief that stilled his mind at the sight of her finally released their hold on him. He moved toward her as the distress in her eyes grew stronger, she questioned her sanity, but he knew this wasn't a trick of his own mind - this was far too good, he didn't have the imaginative capacity to create a falsity like this.

She flinched when the crossbow thunked to the ground a foot away from her, but she didn't dare take her eyes away from him; she gradually looked upward as he drew closer, keeping her eyes on his face. She tried not to cry, but she could feel the sting of tears under her eyelids - this was sadistic if this was all part of her mind, just a delusion. She kept her eyes open, wide, fearful that if she blinked he would disappear. Even if it wasn't real she didn't want to be taunted - it wouldn't be encouragement, it would be taunting, reaching out for something she couldn't find, something she might never find.

Lacey stood perfectly still when his hands rose up and hesitantly landed on her waist, and she blinked, her eyes falling to the small amount of space between their feet. She stared at the dirt, and his hands didn't rest on her waist for long, they were trailing upward, carefully up her slides, dragging over the dirty cloth of the dress. Fingers brushed over her collarbones and she squeezed her eyes shut, because now it's touched her, and she can feel the warmth in those hands, the slight tremor in fingertips, and if it isn't real she wants it to go away right now, before she loses her sense completely.

A tear slipped from her left eye, then her right, leaving almost clean streaks in their wake through the dirt and grime thinly coated on her cheeks. The touch doesn't leave, the boots opposite hers weren't gone when she opened her eyes. She felt his thumbs running up her throat, and they pause where her pulse is for a moment before they continue beneath her jaw, and her head is carefully tilted back up. And she's made to meet his gaze.

Her laugh came out watery, breathy - a wary sob - and a few more tears spilled from her eyes. A hand flew up to his wrist, circled around it while her thumb started to brush back and forth across the top of his hand. _Real, so real._

Daryl's brow drew in with confusion, she still looked so scared, and her grip on his was taut, like she was tethering him in place, as if he was about to run off or disappear-

"Tell me it's really you," she finally spoke again and her voice trembled, as did her hold on his wrist, "Please," she whimpered.

She didn't think he was real. Though he was almost shaking with relief he felt something plummet heavily into his gut - she didn't think he was real.

"It's me," he nodded, words thick in his throat, "It's really me." Alleviation bloomed across her face and she let her hold on him release, letting out an airy laugh as she finally dropped the rifle hanging loose in her grip and brought her arms up around his shoulders. He circled his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, tried to get her impossibly closer; _Never again_, his thoughts stated firmly as he buried his nose into her hair (regardless of the yuck that coated it) and tried not to dig his fingers too hard into her sides.

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"Woah, where you goin' so fast, bub?" Sam snipped when Merle crossed her path. He halted and sighed as he turned on his heel toward the teen. "Where's Daryl? Wow, wait, where are _you_?" she stepped closer to him and he stepped away, confusion written on his face as he watched at her peer at him with bewilderment of her own, "Are you alright? You look like you're having an emotion."

"What?" he croaked and swiped at his face, as if some kind of treacherous wetness might've left his eye without his consent, or whatever it was that Sam was so focused on his face could be easily swatted away, "What the hell're you talkin' about?"

But then she reached a hand over to him and patted his arm, a sympathetic pout on her mouth, "You wanna talk about it, big guy?"

"Holy shit," he grunted, and moved to shove her hand away though she already recoiled, but she didn't have that playful look on her face like she normally did - she was actually serious - he rolled his eyes at her, "I don't know how he stands you."

"Could say the same about you," she hit back, and almost smirked, but she kept it in, "Talk," she demanded - as gently as possible.

"Ain't talkin' to you about anythin', girly."

"If not me then who?" Sam gestured all around them with her arms spread wide, "Clearly you're not so great with communicating with your brother, so..." she flopped her arms down, then jerked her shoulders up in a sharp shrug and clicked her tongue against her teeth, "Looks like I'm all you've got."

Merle stared at her through narrowed eyes. Who the hell was this little chick anyway? Sharp witted with a lethal aim, the teenaged therapist of the apocalypse. She possessed eyes that betrayed any and all emotion she harbored within, and a head of dark hair that was far too long given that they dealt with grabby predators on the daily. He had half a mind to get a hand at the base of that stupid braid and slice it off... partly so he wouldn't have to worry about it getting yanked on by a walker and devouring the little shit... but mostly because all that hair was annoying - just like her.

"Speak and be heard, my son!" she called out like she was emulating some kind of preacher. Merle's eyes widened, and in just the short time he's been acquainted with this obnoxious, but essential little side kick of a kid he knew that she would not relent until appeased - even if that meant attracting the attention of any near by walkers with her extravagance. "Seriously though," she said after grinning up at the birds that had taken flight at the sound of her voice booming through the overhead tree branches, "You'll feel better if you talk. And I'm not just saying that to say that. I mean, honestly, it's like an actual load off your back, or shoulders, or where ever you're carrying those hefty feelings. It was just a couple of days ago when-,"

Merle cut her off with a grunting sound and a waving hand, because this was how she operated, he was sure. She would just talk and talk and talk until it was so overwhelming that a headache sprouted and he'd do anything to get her to just shut up, even if meant talking... about his... _feelings_... Whatever.

She was grinning smally, encouragingly, like it was his burdensome emotions that exploded from him and caused him to shout out at her to hush rather than just wanting to silence her motor mouth.

But then it was that stupid kind, sweet, open face - or at least that's what he blamed it on (her stupid little face) - that caused something to stir in him, and he was searching for the right words, sifting through the ones that piled and jumbled in his head, before he spoke. A series of sighs of varying levels of aggravation preceded any words. But then finally, after the inner turmoil settled for a moment, he managed, flickering his gaze away from contact with Sam's wide, caring brown stare.

"I guess I was tryin' to do right by him, I mean, I..." he admitted slowly, and ended with an exhausted puff. He started again, "I didn't know it at the time, but... takin' care of her, it sorta felt like - like I was makin' up for lost time, makin' up for my mistakes... or somethin'."

Sam was nodding, her expression didn't change as he stumbled through his confession, and she wasn't judging him (for once). He shrugged and glanced toward the endless greenery, "But I always fuck up. Like I did back there. And I'll do it again and again."

"You can still do that," Sam said, and she shook her head when Merle snapped his eyes back to her and cocked a brow up, "You can make up for your mistakes. You can find his wife, you can apologize - to both of them, to everyone." He scoffed just as she continued, "I know you're not the apologizing type and the word 'sorry' isn't in your vocabulary, but you'll find your own way."

Just as Merle opened his mouth to respond - undoubtedly in a manner that would be classified as one of his 'fuck ups' - a gun shot pierced loudly through the animated forest atmosphere and just a beat later was followed by another, effectively shrouding the forest into startled silence.

"Holy shit," and "Shit," were murmured by Sam and Merle before they shot each other a short glance and broke into a sprint toward the sound.

"Daryl!"

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"What is your hair doing?" Lacey's hands had wandered up from his shoulders and carded through dark locks. There was a chuckle in her throat as she wondered, fingers still deep within his hair as she leaned away enough to look up and observe what she was feeling.

Daryl's entire being stuttered for a moment, and he focused on the upward curl at the corners of her mouth and the inquisitive, but amused, pinch between her brows. "What - 's'wrong with it?" he brought up a hand to tentatively touch at his hair where Lacey wasn't - which didn't really give him all that much room to even finger a single strand.

Her fingers were occupied with the fringe sweeping across his forehead. Her smirk grew wider and though there were still tears in her eyes, watery, none slipped down her cheeks, "Nothing. It's just so long," she laughed.

But then her face became sober, and a scared expression took over again. She snatched her hands back like she was burned, "This is still real, right? You're still real? You're still here? We're both here, together, real?"

He nodded, trying not to show his confusion as to why she was having such a hard time believing reality. Michonne had mentioned some things - something about a schedule - but she didn't give much. He had a feeling that Michonne had told Sam more. Maybe she knew what this was all about.

Lacey was nodding along with him, eyes locked on his, a hand reached out, seemingly of its own accord, and tangled two of her fingers with his before she slowly began, "Then where's everyone else, where-,"

Daryl's name was screamed, and from the sounds of it, the source wasn't too far away - which was proven correct when a short brunette thundered through the plantlife and into the small encirclement of trees where the couple stood. Her knees locked when her eyes landed on them, red faced, breathing heavily, she almost collapsed face first into the ground, but she caught herself, staggering, as her empty hand flew up to her mouth, half-way stifling her gasp.

"- god..." is all they heard when Sam's voice squeaked and that bright grin reappeared on Lacey's face. She took a side step away from Daryl, her fingers still clung to his but eventually fell away when Lacey extended her hand out to Sam.

The teen rushed the frazzled blonde like she'd rushed the prison gates over two weeks ago, rocketing into her and nearly sending them both to the ground when they connected. A sob escaped Sam when her face smashed into Lacey's shoulder, and all Lacey could manage was laughter as she matched the force in Sam's embrace.

"I knew - I fucking _knew_ you couldn't be dead!" Sam wailed, her speech partially muffled, "He didn't believe it, but I knew."

"Who didn't -," Lacey's query was cut short when a final figure emerged from the greenery and onto the little reunion in the middle of the forest.

"Well, holy shit..." Merle murmured, there was that ever-present, arrogant amusement in his tone, but genuine shock nearly overpowered it.

Lacey stiffened in Sam's arms, and her smile faltered. She carefully peeled Sam's arms away and nudged her in Daryl's direction while she grumbled, "Pause for a second," eyes focused on the elder Dixon. She stomped toward him as he stepped toward them - his feet halting when she rushed him, "I've got a bone to pick with you," she practically hissed, and that's when Merle started to back up.

"Drugs? Really? You were drugging me?! Sharing cigarettes was one thing, we could've got high as shit together if you persuaded me well enough - but no! You were letting them drug me! I trusted you, you son of a bitch!" Lacey's hands planted against his chest and shoved weakly - Merle didn't stumble at all from the aggression.

"Now hang on-," he offered, but she was fuming, eyes narrowed, hot and glaring, fists clenching - her attempts at shoving were soft, barely anything, but those knuckles were still very much deliverers of blinding pain.

"No!" she shouted, "No! I _knew_ there was nothing wrong with me! Maybe I was a little messed up at the beginning, but - it was you! It was that place! That man made me into this!" her fists were shaking by her sides but they didn't do anything more than that (fortunately for Merle). "Sleeping pills are a hell of a drug for an intolerant wimp like me - but I guess that meant it worked in his favor. God!" she sighed and drew her hands up to her face, "If anything you made it worse..."

Merle was stunned into silence. How could she - How did she know - There was no way -

Her eyes peeked up at him, "You should've just let me go," she muttered quietly, "You should've packed me up and _helped me_ leave - we could've gone together..." she shook her head, in complete disappointment, and that's probably what hurt the worst, "But you let them do this to me, you _let_ them, you fucking-,"

Something snapped and he finally bursted, "I was helpin' you!"

In the background Sam and Daryl surged over to the two when Merle took a step toward her and she didn't cower or stagger back, but meet him, toe to toe, jaw clenched and a fiery look in her eyes.

"Oh yeah?!" she shot back with a sarcastic nod, "Helping? Were you letting others help themselves too? What else were you letting them do to me, huh?" she turned her head to the side, and gave a dramatic glance around like she was checking their surroundings before spilling a secret - she spoke in a stage whisper, "What was happening while your back was turned? Hm?"

Merle's features melted into something disturbed, confused. And Lacey clucked her tongue in a noise of disapproval, "Never thought of that, did you? No... Because the Governor, being the _kind_, _honest_, _**good**_ man he is, couldn't _possibly_ allow shady deals like that to happen-," she broke off into a fake scandalized gasp, "Could he?"

"Nothin' was..." the disbelieving words fell from his mouth, but then it seemed to click. Why Keenan knew about her nightly doses. And who knew how many others knew about it, that information that the Governor was letting slip - "Oh..." he growled, "That piece of shit... I'll kill 'em. I'll kill 'em!" he shouted, the thousand yard stare gone from his eyes, replaced with fire, "I'll kill 'em all! And when they come back I'll kill 'em again!"

Lacey was observing him the entire time. The man she'd trusted for the past eight or nine months, shared digs with, shared stories with, someone she would definitely say she loved and considered family (brother-in-law - almost daily reminders). It seemed that he really was only looking out for her safety when he agreed to medicinal assistance; he had no idea of the probable vulgar business that was occurring behind closed doors. He was betrayed too; he had no idea.

"Sure, sure," she waved it off, finally backing off, she took a few steps away from him where he was still grumbling hateful shit under his breath. "Judging by your actual astounding display of anger I'd say you really weren't in the know concerning the possible debauched contract over my unconscious body."

Merle's gaze flew up to her, wide and pleading ('_Well, that's new_'), "Girly, you gotta believe me. All I was ever tryin' to do was keep ya safe-,"

She raised up a hand to silence him, "I know," she said, "I appreciate the effort, but... less than honest forces took your good deed and turned it on itself..." she shrugged, but then fixed him with another pointed look, "By the way, thanks for the obvious vote of confidence, dick."

A small smirk picked up the corner of her mouth, and Merle seemed to deflate in slight relief.

"Oh, my god!" Sam bellowed suddenly and went for Lacey's arm, gingerly taking it into her hands and peeking under the wrapping that looked more like a fashion accessory that matched her dress more than anything. But underneath she saw the severity of what was very much not a fashion statement, "Mich wasn't kidding. You really sliced your arm."

"It's fine," Lacey shrugged, "But, hey, wait, woah, what about Mich and knowing about this beforehand?"

"She found a way to us - it's this big, involved story. I'll tell you later."

"Okay," Lacey said slowly, "So where is she now? And for that matter where the hell is everyone else?" she paled before the last two words left her lips. "Oh, god..." her gaze shot to Daryl, "The girls," she voiced, but the words squeaked into non-existence, and it looked like she just mouthed the words, "Don't tell me... Don't…" she begged.

"They're fine," Daryl assured her quickly.

"Maybe," Merle added.

"Damn it, Merle!" Sam slapped at his arm.

"Yeah, damn it, Merle!" Lacey nodded firmly in agreement - after a few beats she wondered, "Why 'Damn it, Merle'?"

"It was yesterday. Er, the day before yesterday." Merle explained, "The morning after you left. And the Governor sent me after your samurai girlfriend, and uhh..." he trailed off because she'd already sort of forgiven him about drugging her, he didn't want to bring up other shit for her to get pissed at him for... So Sam spouted out the facts when he neglected to.

"He captured Maggie and Glenn and took them back to Woodbury, beat the hell out of Glenn and scared Maggie shitless. We went to go get them. And to get back our own, some of Woodbury's people got in the way. Lots of gunfire. Merle thinks the Governor's gonna attack the prison."

"He's right," Lacey affirmed, and the solidity in her tone - strict and sure - brought a new wave of fear onto Sam and Daryl. "Prison?" Lacey murmured, "That's where everyone's holed up? A prison?"

"It's better than it sounds, actually," Sam grinned wryly.

"No, of course," the blonde nodded with a short laugh, "I mean, I'll take it, but... Just sorta... Funny, I guess. Irony at its best," she sighed, shaking her head.

"So, if he's on his way to the rest, why are you out here?" she asked when no one else spoke up.

"Lookin' for you," Daryl said, and she smiled warmly his way. There was a giddy flutter in her chest when he shifted his glance away (reverting to his shy ways again, she assumed). But when he didn't meet her eyes again, that flutter morphed into an uncomfortable pinch and dropped into her gut. She didn't have time to consider and try to understand what that was about, what that meant. Then Sam added, "And we found you," beaming.

Lacey looked away from Daryl, turning to look onto Sam, and she couldn't help but grin back, "Yeah," she nodded, "You did."

There was a heavy, pregnant pause. The only sound was the natural sounds of the wildlife surrounding them. Lacey's gaze wandered back and was firm on Daryl, trying to decipher that look, deconstruct that guard that was up around him, but he wouldn't meet her eyes, wouldn't tear his eyes from the ground unless it was to check around for the source of crunching leaves or snapping twigs. Sam was doing the same thing, though far less cut off and stoic; Lacey could almost feel the vibes of excitement combined with terror floating off the girl. The blonde puffed out a sigh and scrunched her brow together, forcing her attention away from Daryl, then narrowed her eyes into a glare when she caught Merle staring at her legs. The thin leggings were more holes than anything, the slinky patterned fabric was thrashed and was clinging onto her by just the weakest of threads... In fact, they weren't much of any use now, just like the dress had been far too long and useless at its normal length, those leggings were worn out and ready for retirement - she'd rip them off if she could. Instead she glanced around for a knife to snag off someone, and that's when her eyes caught sight of the dagger dangling from Sam's belt loop, from that same red cloth ripped from Daryl's kerchief.

Sam followed Lacey's sight and her eyes widened, glancing between the knife and its proper owner two or three times as she scrambled to detach it from herself.

"I kept it safe for you. Andrea said something about this being some Black Family antique."

Lacey nodded along, mumbling, "Something like that," and took it when Sam finally pulled it free and offered it to her. Lacey took the ancient thing from its sheath and bent over to slice carefully away at the seams of the useless material barely holding its shit together encasing her legs.

"And the sword Maggie gave me?" she wondered and the cloth fell away, and that was exceptionally better.

"At the prison, safe. I tried using it, but I'm not so great with it. Mich tried to teach me, but I'm better with..." Sam raised her bow up for a moment and shrugged. Lacey grinned smally, remembering the same tale told from Michonne. She left the legging rags on the ground and picked up her discarded rifle and the hindering magazine (that was nearly the goddamn death of her) that now slid easily into place now that she wasn't threatened (of course) on her way toward the duffel.

"Well, I hate to go into the old song and dance, but time, as usual, is of the essence. They don't know what's headed toward them. We need to get back there, we've got to warn them, we've got to get prepared for it. If the prison has any kind of protection, defenses, he'll get past them, but if there are any set up, what ever they are, they might soften the initial blow. But they are in no way safe, not now that he knows where they are," Lacey said, slinging the duffel's strap over her shoulder, then the rifle's. "The Governor's a ruthless asshole, Merle knows that first hand, we've got to get to them before he does. We've got to help. And I..." she paused, shaking her head as her eyes turned toward the ground, searching for something she'd never get the answer to - _Why...and how... did it come to_ this?

She looked up and was met with the small amount of innocence still intact in Sam's eyes - she didn't want to destroy that last piece of humanity, that thing that still kept her a little girl and not a soldier of the apocalypse. She breathed out a sigh, "I know it won't make us any better than him, but when he gets there, and we go out and meet him, it's shoot to kill, just like walkers; you get the shot, you take it - you can't hesitate. Kill or be killed."

Though she meant to address each of them, she knew it was Sam who she was solely speaking to, and some part within herself needed that vocalized encouragement, that understanding of the threat at hand; months ago she realized it wasn't just walkers who were the monsters to fear, people were still the same. Good and evil were still present in this world, still butting heads no matter what the common menace was.

Sam gave a short nod, inhaling a long breath. Her posture straightened, and Lacey saw that innocence flicker and nearly fade - if it weren't for the small trace of fear, it would've blinked out completely. At least there was still that.

"Then let's go," Merle beckoned for Daryl to take the lead, and the younger hunter's actions almost mimicked Sam's moments ago. He stood straighter before inclining his head and surveying their settings and making a move in the right direction.

He chose a course that angled more west than anything and led the way. Sam compliantly followed, pausing for less than a moment to crack a jubilant grin Lacey's way. Merle gestured for Lacey to go ahead, and she was about illustrate a point that his gentlemanly efforts were moot when he was just a perverted old man trying to get a glance at her goodies, but as she took her first step to follow the pack her knees wobbled, almost giving out completely and sending her to the ground if that 'perverse old man' wasn't there to spring forward and catch her.

"Y'alright, girly?"

She felt herself flush in embarrassment and irritation. After that semi-impressive speech that reeked of almost-leadership, she was acting out the part of the damsel again. Her head swam, vision swirling slightly, but she just shook it off, "I'm fine," she managed to grumble out and gained control over her legs again.

Lacey noted the concerned glances not too far ahead. She met Daryl's eyes, saw the worry there, the fear, but just as soon as she identified it it disappeared, and his stare was hard before he turned back to the trail in front of him and started walking.

"I'm fine," she assured the elder Dixon who had his hand on her shoulder, she gave him a small smirk and went forward, catching up to the still perturbed teen waiting for her.

"You're sure you're good?" she asked.

"Yeah," Lacey answered easily with a matching easy smile, "Yeah, I'm alright."

She blinked hard at the dizziness invading her eyes, the darkness sneaking in at the corners - not now, not after all this, finding them, going back home, back to the rest of the family. She was supposed to be better now... or at least that's what she had hoped would happen when she found them again. Like an insta-cure, at the sight of them, the sound of their voices, the feel of their touch her ailments would vanish...but it wasn't like that.

And the reunion wasn't quite what she had anticipated either. But that was something to tend to later.

.

Glenn was gone; drove off on his own when his conversation with Maggie didn't go so well. Maggie was in the cell block, taking care of the young ones. Rick was aimlessly stomping about the forestry outside the prison gates. Michonne had free reign in the grassy field between the inner gates and the dog run, and the rest were spread out among the black-top outside Cell Block C.

Jo puffed out a sigh, dropping his hand from shading over his brow when he peered past the fence to see Hershel talking to Rick through the chain links.

Things were crazy, and shitty, and batty, and they were only getting bat-shit crazier with each passing minute. In lieu of the absence of the men (and women) who possessed leadership qualities, the role was ultimately thrust upon Jo's shoulders. And the weight of it made him stagger; at least with Glenn they shared the load, but Glenn was fueled by a rage Jo hoped to never feel and allow to consume him.

He heard the cell block door groan open, and turned to see who it was. Beth and Carl were seated on the bleachers, and Carol and Axel were chatting not too far away from him. He smirked at the sight of Axel getting chummy with Carol, it was kind of adorable in a... weird way. But with his eyes scanning back toward the block he finally saw who was coming out. His heart fluttered in his chest, as lame as it was it something it didn't cease to do every time he saw her.

Amy.

He wasn't completely alone in this temporary leader task. He still had her. And in the back of his mind he recalled a quote about great men always having a woman behind them - and though he wasn't all that great, there was a far greater woman behind him.

Strong, pretty, blonde - she was amazing, and for some odd reason she loved him. Jo didn't question it though, he wasn't the type to look a gift horse in the mouth. Amy would've been unattainable in the world before, out of Jo's league. But in this world, they were given the chance they wouldn't have had then (like Daryl and Lacey, though he didn't try to compare his and Amy's relationship to his sister's and Daryl's too much, that was just... no. Lacey and Daryl were opposite sides of the spectrum completely - that's how Jo saw it - and he and Amy were... well... he would've been happy enough just to be in the friendzone if it meant he could in her company and she would enjoy his presence).

They had their ups and downs, hard times, rough patches in their relationship just like anyone else had. Awfully enough, this time - at the end of the world - was the the best time to iron out the wrinkles in romantic companionship stuff. And luckily, Jo and Amy complemented each other. There were fights, raised voices, sharp opinions, silent treatments, but they worked it out; cleared the air as quickly as they could, because it didn't do anyone any good to harbor a distracting pissed off mood during these times. And there was always the factor of: What if...?

The only thing (they believed) that made their relationship different (and made it work) compared to the rest was the what-if factor. Jo always made a point to never say anything bad or hurtful to her, just in case it might be the last thing he'd ever say to her, or the last thing she'd hear from him. The same went for Amy. They always made the extra effort to do or say something sweet, something loving, no matter how annoying or repetitive it became, they kept on - just in case.

He met her half way, just near the bleachers, and accepted the pistol she handed to him. He eyed the rifle hanging from her shoulder and rose a brow.

"Hey," she finally greeted.

And the corner of his mouth turned up, "Hey,"

"I'm gonna see how Michonne's doing, sending Rocket up, too, so keep the gate open, okay?" she said all while walking toward the gate, and Jo nodded, staying put to nod at Carl for the ring of keys and catching them before following. "I'm headed to the front gate's tower to keep an eye out for Glenn - Rick, too, and any unfriendlies," she explained while Jo unlocked the gate and pulled it open enough for her to pass.

"'kay. Be careful." And that was another thing, he didn't question her strength or abililties, and that earned him tons more points with her. Respect (and food) was the key to a lady's heart. She smiled sweetly at him and leaned up to drop a kiss to his cheek.

She brought up a hand to caress his cheek, "Always," she replied and started down the trail. He watched her go, his eyes lingering along her form - he was a man after all - and continued to watch until she reached Michonne and Rocket stationed by the overturned bus. They chatted shortly, then Rocket's ears perked and she stood up and started trotting toward the prison. The hound walked through the gate opening and parked herself beside Jo's feet. He grinned down at the dog and looked up to see Amy heading toward the guard tower, and Michonne still standing by the bus. He finally tore his gaze away when he saw his girlfriend disappear behind the tower door.

He didn't bother with pulling the gate closed, not when they had two gates down that small stretch of dirt road, they were fine - on that side of the prison at least. The gates in front of C Block were intact, it was the side that was letting in a flood of the undead that was their real problem.

Jo let out another small sigh at that - so many problems, so indeterminate time. He walked back toward the bleachers, to Beth and Carl. Rocket stayed firmly by the gate - strange, she loved to be a shadow, she was probably just confused as to why Michonne hadn't followed her, and why she wasn't coming still. He left it at that and kept walking, almost banging his shin against the rusted metal because of his thought crowded mind.

He crumbled elegantly onto the worst idea of faux-stadium seating ever, and tried not to wince when the hard edges and angles dug into any and all the fleshy bits of his body. Jo groaned tiredly, turning his face skyward, "I don't know about you kids," - internally he laughed at the title, 'kids', they were no longer that, that was for damn sure, but it was just the natural way to address them - better than 'youngens' - - "but I could sure go for some mind-numbing television right now," he sighed with a distressed pout and was rewarded with chuckling from his younger counterparts.

A question about favorite shows or movies was about to be raised, but it was halted by the sound of Rocket letting out a short vicious bark that cut off into a yelp. Then before Jo's eyes were opened to see what had happened to the former police hound, there was the distinct sound of a bullet penetrating a body, followed by the gasped cry from who he could only assume was Carol. And he was right when his vision cleared and focused on the slow motion havoc about to assault their would've-been less than moderately pleasant day. Axel was on the ground, half way on top of Carol, lifeless, blood trickling slowly from his head. Rocket, the brave girl, was limping away from the fence, dragging herself along the ground and leaving red in her wake.

Jo blinked and everything sped up to normal speed, maybe went a little faster before it leveled out, because he was up on his feet and pulling his pistol out, pointing to aim and searching for a target all in what felt like half a second.

"Take cover! Go! Go!" he shouted, his eyes still seeking out the source, though he knew exactly who was behind it.

There was gun fire coming from all directions it seemed, but he went straight for Rocket. He hefted her up into his arms, breathing out apologies when she whined. He kept looking, and kept moving, feeling the bullets striking the ground near his feet. He needed to find cover, and fast. There were discarded file cabinets and other office equipment piled by the bleachers, it wasn't too far, he could make it, he and Rocket would be safe.

But Carol.

He made it behind the cabinets and set Rocket down carefully, flinching at the clouds of dirt puffing up from the ground just a foot away from him. He peeked around a corner, pistol drawn and saw a figure on a guard tower. His stomach filled with lead, thoughts of Amy hitting him then. He fired twice and hid. Fired two more, and tried to peek around to see the guard tower where Amy was, but he couldn't see. He leaned a little more and -

"Fuck!" he cursed. Hand automatically flying to where the pain flared hottest and the blood began to pour.

.

Conversation didn't fill the air much as they focused on breathing and footing. Though by Daryl's knowledge they were getting close. Lacey's heart was pounding with rivaling anticipation, excitement, and dread; there was a separate, smaller stabbing of fear because of the swimming in her head that had yet to pass, the darkness wasn't crowding her vision anymore... or had she grown accustomed to it and couldn't tell the difference...? '_Shit,_' her thoughts groaned.

She didn't need another almost-spill for someone to pick her up from, she didn't need to black out at a time like this (blacking out was something that didn't need to happen _at all_, _ever_, regardless of sanity or lack of energy). But especially now wouldn't be the best of times, not when Sam had looked at her like she was her hero again but was now wary of her, careful of her like she was an infant, and Daryl was being strange, hardly looking her way, and Merle had switched on and off between creepy and protective. Not only that, they had the Governor targeting the rest of their loved ones at the prison. So she didn't need all the concern and attention on her when the shit was about to hit the fan. No. No, that could wait until after; actually, if it were up to Lacey she hoped that all the concern wouldn't be directed at her at all. That was a short lived dream though, since she was _stolen_ by _Woodbury_ and _kept there_ for the past _eight months_ (and was also drugged into submission and who knows what else), of course she knew she was going to receive special treatment, and she was going to hate it.

In a way, Daryl's disdainful nature was welcomed, but this was _Daryl_; Daryl was different from the group as a whole. Daryl slapped a ring on her finger and said he loved her (not exactly in that order), it was a different relationship. She would tell him to stop worrying, but she knew he would worry anyway, because that's what was expected. He'd seemed so happy to see her, so relieved, and now it seemed like -

Her reverie was slammed to a halt - thankfully, because she was feeling an unpleasant pinching and pressure at her temples from all those unwanted over-thoughts.

It was the sound of gunfire, there was no doubt about it. Echoing and constant in the distance.

"Do you hear that?" Lacey whispered - just in case this was another delusion that was exclusive to her.

But the others were shocked still as well, listening. Sam nodded, her face going pale as the reports continued. They ratcheted up their pace, running toward the sounds.

The only thing that kept Lacey going even when her lungs felt shrunken into non-existence and her throat burned like a desert on fire was the constant mantra of, '_My babies, my brother, my family, that _asshole_ is trying to kill them._' She wasn't going to let that happen as long as she was alive. She'd fight that son of a bitch - and any who were in league with him - until her last breath.

.

There was a pause, and if the silence wasn't unsettling before... Jo winced with every burst of pain, trying not to panic so the blood wouldn't pump faster, but in this setting he wondered how the fuck he hadn't bled out in the last 30 seconds. He glanced down to Rocket, she was still breathing, he couldn't locate her wound just yet, but her fur was matted with blood - what sick bastard shot a dog?! What sick bastard shot at living people when the dead were the roaming the Earth?! "Fucking Christ!" he breathed and kept pressure on his arm. If he knew his anatomy - which he hardly did - he'd survive from this sort of wound. If Carl could survive from a buck shot to the gut, he sure as hell could survive from this... But holy shit it burned like hell fire, Jesus fucking ow!

The cell block door groaning open pierced the quiet air and Maggie's voice was heard. She called for her sister, passing off a heavy rifle to her, before moving quickly toward the cabinets Jo and Rocket were behind while shooting at the man in the tower.

She gave cover fire and told Carol to move. When Carol was safely concealed with Carl and Beth and taking up the rifle in Beth's hands Maggie looked to Jo.

"Shit, Jo!" she hissed at the sight of the blood, and her eyes widened further when she noticed the state Rocket was in.

"It's fine. I'm good," he assured her, gritting his teeth as he brandished his pistol and took careful aim at the man who looked like he was preoccupied with fire coming from his left. Level from where he was. The pain didn't matter anymore, the Woodbury man was shooting at Amy. He took a more precise aim, but then he was out. He checked his pockets out of habit, he'd keep a clip or two in his pockets - just in case - and luckily all his forethought efforts proved useful. He released the spent magazine and fit in the new one, just as another cease fire filled the air with a terrifying quiet.

Maggie and Jo peeked cautiously around their barrier, but they weren't shot at.

In the distance they could hear a vehicle rumbling down the road. Half hoping and half not hoping it was Glenn driving right into this shit fest. Their brows drew together in confusion, it wasn't Glenn. It was a delivery van ripping down the road at high speeds. It didn't slow as the drew closer to the gates, it probably went faster before it came in contact with the fences, plowing down the first, then the second, and skidding to a long halt off the dirt path among the grass. And it just sat there. Rumbling, ominous - what the fuck was this?

But then the back door - a piece of fencing - fell down, and for a moment or two that seemed to be it - but of course that wasn't it. Walkers flooded out. Stumbling, snarling and hungry.

What. The. Fuck?!

There were dozens of them it seemed, a never ending stream of walkers coming out of this van. And then the driver abandoned the vehicle, covered head to toe in riot gear, he pulled out a pistol and started firing, and that's when all gun fire commenced.

"What the fuck is this guy?!" Jo wailed over the reports. The Governor was more than a few kinds of messed up - what the hell!?

.

"Shit!" Lacey quietly cried as they broke through the tree line and bore witness to the shit storm that was flooding the prison. They heard the gun fire from more than a mile out, undoubtedly any walkers within that radius would be drawn to it too, as was proven by the number of deadies ambling from all directions toward the prison.

They could now see the fire and return fire. A figure in a guard tower flailed as it was pierced with a bullet or three before it fell into a heap of limbs to the floor, head and an arm spilling over the edge. There were more figures just outside the main prison building, four tall ones and a short one, all armed, making their way toward the gate, toward the yard where a walker-bomb just exploded spewing out more than a dozen walkers.

Lacey swept her eyes around the perimeter and felt herself stiffen when she saw the Governor firing a rain of bullets into the air before climbing into his truck along with three others.

She took in a breath before taking aim, limbs still taut, and just about screamed, "Shoot that -"

.

"- motherfucker!" Jo crowed as he pulled open the gate and those with guns stepped out to take care of the walkers coming their way, "Shoot him and all of this fucking shit will be resolved!" Jo shouted, pointing with his gun toward where the Governor was driving off, kicking up a cloud of dirt as he went, passing up Glenn - showing up _just in time_.

.

"Fuck!" Lacey grunted, when the truck containing the Woodbury men and their leader was completely gone from sight. She wasted five bullets on trying to hit that truck, and it seemed that it was only she that had her focus on that bastard. The other three, armed with arrows, bolts, and piece of piping, couldn't do much anyway in the likes of that amount of distance shooting.

They moved forward, noting a struggling Rick pinned against the fence by a couple of walkers. Daryl sent a bolt through the skull of the walker just inches from Rick's face. Sam sprinted forward, picking off the nearby walkers with quick draws, and Merle merciless beat the few he targeted. The teen was fretting over the former Sheriff; he looked like he was in horrible shape, having literally just held off walkers with his own strength. She was right to fret.

Lacey's gaze drifted past the four pressed against the fence, sighing at the sight of all the walkers still very much alive within the field while the others retreated to safety behind the gate. "You can never count on anyone, you gotta do _every_thing yourself, don't we?" she murmured to herself under her breath and cinched the strap of the duffel tighter across her chest. Despite the unhealthy amount of running she'd performed to get to the prison she didn't feel at all exhausted as she broke into a sprint around the perimeter fence toward the entrance that had been plowed down.

She brought the rifle's strap over her head, checking walker's in the face with the butt of her gun as she passed them. Ripping around the corner and through the plowed down security point, she vaguely heard a startled cry of her name from above as she continued on into the bulk of the mess.

There were walkers behind her, following her in, attracted to the noise, so she slowed and turned around, walking backwards as she plucked off some of them enough to create a pile up, something to trip up the other ones. She turned back and went for the walkers that were sprung from their little gift box. Four shots came from the rifle before it was out. She tossed the spent gun to the ground and took up the revolver from the duffel. The undead weren't nearly as interested in her as they were of the large grouping of living morsels behind the main yard gate, but there were some that noted her presence and made an effort to go at her.

The first one got a gut full of boot, slammed down with a heavy, skull rattling thud, and with her boot still firmly pressed down she aimed and pulled the trigger. The living dead creature was lifeless with a bullet hole off center in its forehead, and she pulled back the hammer quickly, popping off five more rounds until she was empty. There were two more making their way to the gate, others were still filing in, clearly her walker-speedbump was ill effective. The closer she got, along with her being the only source of noise now, gained the walkers attention. She dropped the revolver and pulled out her knife - though she missed and loved the feel of that blade in her hand, she desired the weight and grip of her sword much more.

She shoved the blade through its eyesocket with a grunt, yanking it back out and momentarily shaking off the blood and eyeball stuck to it before ramming up with an upward force under the final one's jaw and ripping it away before all its dead weight relied on her for standing support.

'_Not too bad for a girl who's about to pass out,_' her mind applauded. And she breathed out a brief chuckle, swaying from foot to foot. Her eyes were plagued with dizziness, spinning the world far too fast, and then covering it with darkness before she could get a proper look at the astounded faces on the other side of the fence just a stone's throw away from her.

There was a sensation of relief - or maybe that was her body shutting down - that made her limbs go numb, and she could feel herself crumbling to the ground. Thankfully she didn't see anything after that, or feel the impact. Her mind was occupied with a single thought before everything went black and blank: '_Mama's home._'

.

.

.

* * *

Note: Annnd we're back! And after reading over this for a third time I'm realizing Lacey's displaying some Peeta Mellark-like characteristics - _real or not real_? Whoopsie. Does that make Daryl Katniss? Hah! No, shh. This is a _different_ version of the end of the world-fucked up business, different tyrannts.  
Anyway, uhh, are hoorahs in order?

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.

Thanks - to XM for beta'ing and dealing with my bullshit even though she should be solely focusing on school work. And also thanks to all that have favorited and followed during the hiatus.

Chapter inspired by -

_Tumbleweed_ by Puscifer.

Home  
He's so far away  
Come on home

Home  
A voice from within  
You're not alone

Home  
You're so far away  
Come on home

_Crazy_ by The Asteriods Galaxy Tour.

It's gonna get crazy  
It's gonna get mad  
It's gonna get hazy  
Ooh, so sad

We're more than closer to the end of our days

And I believe this last one really encompasses Lacey's feelings and just her as a whole since reuniting with her people and no longer being/feeling lost, falling back into her kind of-leadership role, and it'll pretty much be her sort of anthem throughout the rest of the story - _Fury Oh Fury_ by Nico Vega.

I was going to put the lyrics here too, but I'd end up putting the entire song and I don't want to do that so... basically symbolism (symbology!) 'In the cold, I die, In the spring, I sprout' and YOU DONE FUCKED UP! FEEL HER FURY!

{Wow, it is either too early or too late for this madness, and I'm not sure which it is.  
Welcome back! This is the mid-season premiere!}


	15. Chapter 15

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.

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"Goddamn it!" Merle huffed as he, Daryl, Rick, and Sam rushed into the yard just in time to see Lacey collapse yards away from a stunned audience. Amy was already up there, falling to her knees beside the older blonde, checking her pulse and taking the duffel bag away from her body. "She's makin' a habit of this faintin' shit," he grumbled, and Sam and Daryl shot him a confused look - there was a lot to catch up on.

Daryl and Sam broke off to pick up the guns Lacey dropped while Rick and Merle met Amy, the girl explaining that she was still alive, still breathing. Rick picked up her knife while Jo fumbled with the lock and key on the gate, his bullet wound twinging painfully and making him fumble even more.

"I got her, I got her!" Merle shouted when Amy took on a fearful expression as he slid his arms beneath the passed out Black and scooped her up. Amy stepped back a couple paces (but stayed close just in case) and shot her gaze to Jo when Merle crowed at him as he walked toward the fence, "Open the goddamn gate!"

Jo gave up the keys to Maggie and the lock sprang free and she - along with almost everyone else's help - yanked the gate open in a rush. Merle with his arms full came through first, then Amy and Rick after him. Daryl and Sam ran through last and Carol and Glenn shoved the gate closed after them, locking it up again as more walkers ambled in through the smashed open main gate way.

"Is she okay? Is she - is she dead?" Jo frantically asked with his hand pressed over his wound. It throbbed like a bitch but his sister had just walked through the field and wiped out the rest of the walkers like it was the goddamn OK Corral - a proper badass before promptly passing out. Her lips were slightly parted as her head lolled over Merle's arm; she looked like an abused rag doll, complete with cuts, bruises, and various stains all over her skin and thrashed dress, and what appeared to be smeared and dried mascara beneath her eyes.

"She's fine," Amy assured him, then squealed when she noticed the blood staining his arm, coating his hand and still streaming between his fingers and down his arm, "Jesus!"

Jo shushed her, telling her that he was okay while orders flew through the air to get the duffel, someone pick up Rocket, pull open the block door and get medical supplies prepped. Maggie tossed the keys and Carl sprinted to the door with them in hand, Sophia trailing hot on his heels and making sure the path was clear before going for the medical supplies. Beth appeared by her side with instructions from her dad and they sifted through the things that were needed. With two bullets wounds and who knows what was wrong with Lacey, Hershel's plate was full to overflowing.

"Put her in a cell!"

"Jesus Christ, who shoots a dog?! Mich, bring Rocket over here!"

"Jo, keep pressure on that while I check on your sister. Beth, see what we're dealin' with with him."

"It's fine, totally fine."

"Fuck! Not fine, Jo! It ripped all the way through!"

"Hey! Get your fuckin' hands off me, man!"

"We have anything for Rocket for the pain? Looks like they clipped her front leg."

"Get him the hell outta the cell block!"

The block echoed with shouted commands and questions, one voice over the other. Sam winced as her temples gave a dull throb, the beginning of a headache spurred threateningly. She edged away from the cell where Michonne and Sophia were trying to soothe Rocket. "Good to be home, huh?" she murmured to Daryl, but he was in no mood for her dry humor. He passed a short glance over to the end of the block where Rick was shoving Merle none-too-gently toward the common area with a gun in his face. Both men were roaring at each other, attempting to assert dominance, trying to sound loudest, like a couple of animals. Rick kept the gun in his face until Beth ran back into the cell block, taking his aggressive aim away only after shutting Merle in the common area by himself - caged up. That was a start. At least he wasn't put outside, or told to leave immediately.

At the top of the stairs Amy and Maggie were shushing a crying Judith, as well as trying to calm Erin and Honey who were nothing but anxious, curious and worried after Maggie left them once the first rally of gunshots ceased to pierce the air only minutes ago. What was that shooting? Who was shooting? Why was everyone yelling? Was everything okay?

"Everyone's fine," Maggie assured Erin, but then the girl caught sight of Jo's arm when Beth began cleaning around the wound.

"Jo's bleeding!" The women shushed the girls; and then all commotion dulled enough for everyone, including those on the second floor, to catch Hershel's voice gently, but firmly, asking, "Lacey? Lacey, can you hear me? Lacey."

Nothing could stop those girls then, not after hearing that name - not after hearing it spoken in a manner of _to_ rather than _about_. Erin dodged Amy's arm and raced down the steps, swerving through the bodies that circled around outside the cell that housed Lacey and Hershel. She slammed to a halt, though, when she saw the blonde woman unconscious, and Hershel peeling the lightly bloodied fabric from her arm to reveal a severe looking cut. She hoped (when she harbored the belief that Lacey was still alive out there and would come back to them eventually) she would be how she remembered her with her key traits, being: pretty, blonde, nice, and strong. This wasn't how she pictured it; she pictured triumph and hugs and kisses and laughter and probably some tears, too. What she faced was Lacey looking brutalized, knocked out, pale and - it was wrong. It wasn't right.

She spun around, eyes searching for Daryl's, seeking an explanation, but he didn't meet her gaze, his was firm on the happenings within the cell. She sought out the next pair of eyes and found Sam's, the teen was nodding with a tight, forced smile, "She's okay," she assured and offered her hand out to the girl, "She's just... a little tired. But she's alright."

Erin nearly took Sam's outstretched hand, but then Honey came barging through legs, stumbling through on her own shaky legs with Amy hushedly calling after her. Bent on seeing the woman she miraculously still remembered she passed up Erin, too, until she was in the cell and at the end of the bunk where Lacey lay, "Mama!" the toddler shrieked. She continued to mumble the name and incoherently grumble while trying to hoist herself up onto the bunk, but the seven year old caught her. The tiny blonde squirmed and whined, and - the first time since... well... _ever_ - she threatened a full blown tantrum. Her short bursts of whining elevated in pitch until she was close to screaming, eyes watering and face turning red. Amy snatched the girl from Erin who was at loss as to what to do. Amy bounced her on her hip, rocking from foot to foot as the girl wailed softly, tears streaming down her plump cheeks. The girl reached out toward Daryl, murmuring out - beseeching - a pitiable, 'Da,' and he took her in his arms. He mumbled so faintly against her hair it was impossible to pick apart any words from his gravelly drone, but it had Honey calming down in seconds - reduced to sniffles and hiccups.

Silence overtook the block with most of the group surrounding the cell, looking in on Hershel beside Lacey - their intransigent soldier. But now it seemed she wasn't as indestructible as they had all once believed. Before Lacey left - _was stolen_ - she was a vehement protector, a fierce warrior; hardly one to be reduced to collapsing. She wasn't weak, that was for sure. She'd put up one hell of a show out there, but then... fell to pieces right in front of them. She had her bouts of weakness (as she described it), but they were small and never put on display. But this... What _was this_? _Who_ was this? What was done to her - to make her become this? Where everyone else had become stronger the opposite seemed to become of Lacey. What happened in Woodbury...?

"What's wrong with her? Is she gonna be okay?" Jo's voice broke the silence when he and Beth wandered into the group. Beth took her place by her father just as he shook his head in despair, "I'm not s-,"

"Exhaustion," Merle's voice called, echoing through the block and into the next, rousing the attention of the group to turn to him. He was leaned up against the gate, forearms hanging through the bars, not looking at all as worried as the rest. He'd done all his worrying with Lacey (and mourning), he had an understanding of the chick now; she might have been physically weak, but she was fucking resilient. It was going to take a whole lot more than what they've faced to kill her. Merle shrugged when glares and faces of confusion were aimed his way, "'s'what it always was before, 's'what it is now." Sam strayed from the pack, drawn to Merle and his apparent knowledge of Lacey as he continued in a nonchalant tone, though, to the somewhat-trained ear such as Sam's, she noted the shame in it as well, "Facin' withdrawals probably. Governor had her on nightly doses of sleepin' aides. She said she don't have the best drug tolerance - inadvertently got her hooked; livin' the simple life, then thrown back into the world again ain't gonna be too easy on her."

Sam was a foot away from the bars of the gate by the time he said his final word with a minute shrug of his shoulders again. She glanced back to the rest and some looked on toward Hershel, others still pinned their gazes to Merle - no doubt feeling more intrigued than appalled about the elder Dixon, for once. But... _Why_ did Merle know so much? That was what Sam intended to find out.

"Then I suppose rest is the best thing for her," Hershel summed and stood up with a grunt while Beth carefully arranged Lacey into what she hoped was something more comfortable. The group parted as Hershel hobbled out, and he looked to Carol, "Would you sew up her arm? You remember how I told you..." he trailed off when Carol nodded and slipped past him into the cell, Beth settled out the proper supplies before slipping out to leave the older woman to it.

Hershel turned to Jo whose focus was solely stuck on watching Carol prepare his sister's arm for stitches, the former veterinarian's voice addressing him pulled him away from the sight, "Now, Jo, let's see -,"

Jo shook his head firmly, "Rocket first. I'm fine, seriously, and I know that's probably the blood loss talking but whatever. Please, just check out Rocket before me." Hershel relented and moved on to the next cell that contained the injured dog.

With less tension in the air, the group settled down, and let the fatigue take over as the adrenaline dissipated from their veins. Though Rocket was reluctant she eventually accepted a mindful dose of aspirin while she was cleaned up and her wounded leg wrapped. Jo kept two pads of gauze pressed to his arm as he slinked away from what would probably be Lacey's cell to the gate where Sam was sizing Merle up with a critical stare.

"Were you with her? In Woodbury? Were you -?" Jo quietly asked, but was sharply cut off by Merle.

"I was keepin' her safe."

Jo turned his head slightly, mildly affronted, brow raised, "That's what I was going to say."

Sure, he wasn't the best of pals with Merle Dixon back at the Atlanta camp - not like Lacey had attempted and to a degree succeeded with. But he didn't hate the guy - he was kind of scary and obnoxiously rude, but he didn't bear bitter feelings for him. Jo was one of the group that had gone back into Atlanta to retrieve him, so to see him alive was - in part - a relief, but knowing he was affiliated with the Governor - not so comforting. But if this was the guy who was protecting his sister for the past eight months, it lightened a massive load off his mind.

Merle seemed taken aback for a moment by Jo's sincerity. And the younger continued, "Listen, dude, Lace was the first one to knock you on your stupid ass _and then_ try to befriend you at that camp, and I know something sparked to life because she was fucking livid when she learned you were left there on that roof. She would've gone off on her own in the middle of the night if we hadn't've decided to slap a group together the next day to go get you."

Merle snorted indignantly, though an amused smirk tugged at his mouth.

"So judging by the way you sprinted to her, picked her up like a freakin' China doll and carried her in here, I'm guessing the two of you found some time to make that glimmer of a relationship into something a little more solid," Jo ventured without any hesitance. And Merle nodded.

"Then you can tell us this," Jo glanced briefly to Sam, "What happened to her?"

The older man looked between the two - the teen and Lacey's brother - and he could see his own little brother coming to join them. He inhaled deeply through his nose before murmuring, "Fine," and began with the night Lacey was brought into Woodbury, battered and bloodied...

He didn't offer too much detail, just explaining the things he deemed important.

"She was callin' herself Perrin for a while, never got an explanation on that."

"Oh, uhm," Jo spoke up, glancing backward when Hershel called his name, "It was when we were kids, I was too young to remember, but we'd play as Lost Boys, and she was Peter Pan, but her name couldn't be Peter because she's a girl, and... yeah... Long story short - Perrin Pan," he explained quickly and pleaded for Merle to wait before continuing while he went to get his arm tended to.

"She told me about that..." Daryl mumbled under his breath. Sam looked to him, it was the first he'd spoken since they found Lacey. His eyes held a distant look and Sam was sure he was swept away by memories of _then_.

Jo came back with his arm stitched and wrapped, and a pain pill in him that had yet to take effect - not that he could really feel anything at the moment, everything was sort of numb, yet heavy. Merle told them about the Doc, about Grady, about the drugs, about the cigarettes, about the escape attempts - but he skipped around the points that were what might've happened while he was on watch (he still couldn't fucking believe it. She was doped up and Grady apparently had some bargain with the Governor. Sick fuckers...). He may be a mean son of a bitch but he couldn't throw those presumptions out there like that, not yet at least. The final escape seemed like a redundant event to share since, well, looking around at where they were and who was in their company now. So Jo said his thanks, and it was for more than just the information, it was a _thanks for trying to protect my sister even though you weren't really helping, but it's the thought that counts - but not really, thanks anyway though. Props for trying._..

The entire group retired to their own places, some sent on watch, others barely busying themselves with tasks within the cell block. Jo was at Lacey's side, his head pressed into the crummy thin mattress as he mumbled to her about the ridiculous chances that Keenan - of all people to survive in this world - was still alive and in league with the Governor. He said he never really liked any of her boyfriends (and he especially never enjoyed the short lived company of all of Ben's girlfriends) but Keenan just seemed so... douche-y. He snorted at his choice of word and sat back, blinking hard against languor.

It was dark out and the cell block was lit by a few candles, the others were turning in, switching out for watch shifts and Daryl was leaned against the opening of the cell that contained the last two original Black's.

"Go on, man," Daryl grumbled and Jo lolled his head in his direction, eyes half lidded, blinking sluggishly, "Get some sleep, I'll watch over her," and his heart stuttered in his chest as the words left him. There was a sense of dread low in his gut that spread like wild fire through his entire being, and somewhere something in him begged for Jo to wave him off and tell him he was fine to stay with her. But he didn't do that. And the twist in Daryl's stomach rolled out a fresh flare of pulsing discomfort.

"Yeah... Yeah, alright," Jo hummed, letting out a groan as he hauled himself up to his feet and stumbled through the doorway. He paused by Daryl, dropping a hand on his shoulder, "I meant what I said about the boyfriends," he was almost slurring, and Daryl's brow rose with interest. Lacey and Daryl weren't the boyfriend/girlfriend labeling type, but Jo obviously was. The younger continued, patting Daryl's shoulder once, "But if my assumptions are correct about that thin silver thing around her finger, you haven't been a boyfriend for quite some time," a wirey grin appeared on Jo's mouth and Daryl was thankful for the lack of proper lighting so the stupid blush he felt creep up his neck and face wasn't seen. Jo dropped his hand two more times in a friendly pat before making his way toward his and Amy's cell that was housing Erin and Honey at the moment while Amy and Sam were on watch.

Daryl kept his eyes downward as he settled on the floor, his back against the wall opposite the bunk. The cells - the cages - were a cramped fit, but at that moment they felt much, much smaller. Since learning that Lacey was still alive it was all that had consumed his thoughts, he selfishly admitted to himself. Finding her and bringing her home. Which seemed like a strangely simple task now that all was said and done. A two day jaunt through the woods and he found her. He didn't resent the simplicity, but he should have known better by now that when gifted something good, shit was soon to follow (as was proven by the Governor's neighborly visit - but that wasn't all). Lacey wasn't like how he remembered. Memories from the Atlanta Camp, the CDC, and the farm played through his mind, and he compared those foggy images to these new clear ones. Something was different.

They had all changed, and he didn't expect her to be less susceptible to the trials that time brought, but this - the way she looked, the way she spoke, the way she was with his brother, the emotions, and the passing out - wasn't what he'd anticipated. Her words played in his mind like a skipping record; what she said to him, her doubt of reality, and what she said to Merle, something about drugs and-

Something happened to her and not even Merle's brief synopsis of what occurred in Woodbury could abate his anxiety caused by the questions rocketing through his mind that only she could answer. He had her back, but he was still made to wait, and he was so thoroughly done with waiting - he did his waiting, 8 months of it, without her. He had her back, but she wasn't really there - wasn't really his anymore if appearances were anything to go by. Merle was a shitty brother, but he didn't think he'd be shitty enough to-

Daryl shook his head, tilting it back against the bricks and focusing on the twitching circular pattern the candle light dully cast on the ceiling. He stared at the lights and shadows until his mind slowed down and he didn't feel overwhelmed to be in his own head, didn't feel squished into the corner of this cage that seemed like it was somehow getting smaller. His gaze fell along the top bunk and drifted down until he took in the sight of the bottom bunk's occupant. She looked so small, even smaller with her boots off. She was filthy, covered head to toe in a mix that was made of all kinds of wrong, something that shouldn't be but was easily shrugged off and walked around in like war paint. Probably the only clean part of her was her arm where her wound was properly treated, neatly stitched and wrapped up. With her face angled toward the light he could see her slackened, relaxed features - though peaceful, just as dirty as the rest of her. But it was the makeup smudged under her eyes that had him squirming where he sat (_Why_? and _Where the fuck_-? were questions that came to mind).

Distant and blurry, he recalled the Black's strolling into camp, and eventually humiliating Lacey by way of making acquaintance; he remembered the dark smudges of aged mascara or eyeliner around her eyes, her eyes that burned with embarrassment and hatred. He was used to her clean - albeit tired - visage. A makeup-less face that reminded him of days of limited hostility and friendship and... and that other thing.

He didn't realize what he was doing until the water soaked edge of the red kerchief touched under her left eye, gently wiping away at the darkness, and revealing the darkness underneath that couldn't be wiped away. Even sleeping she still looked exhausted - relaxed, but totally spent... Fragile, even... And maybe that's what was putting him off. He never had to be careful with her, didn't have to treat her like a delicate little purveyor of double X chromosomes. Because she could handle the shit just as well as he did, they were equal - _then_ - but now... He knew it wasn't her fault, he could never blame her, but it would take some time - just more time that they didn't have - _great_.

When there wasn't any trace of kohl left he tucked the cloth away, satisfied, and went to sit back against the wall again but... No matter how awkward he felt in such close proximity to her he couldn't deny himself the indulgence - to just look at her; past the grime and gore she was still beautiful, he thought. A cautious hand rose, and he nearly dropped it and scurried away like he would surely burn if he touched her again, but he allowed himself (forced himself) to brush the hair away from her forehead, brush his fingers through, careful of the knots.

His lips twitched into a small smile. Hand falling away from her hair to take hold of her hand, he murmured lower than a whisper, "Missed ya, darlin'."

.

It was some time before dawn, the sky offering a hazy in-between light and dark coloring, when Daryl was roused awake by the sound of the bunk rattling.

Lacey leaned up on her forearms, hissing as the sting her injured one brought when she put pressure on it. He saw her peer all around through the darkness before she quietly whined, "Oh, god. I'm incarcerated."

Daryl chuckled softly, moving toward the water and stale crackers Carol had brought in after she stitched her up. Lacey collapsed back down onto the thin mattress, puffing out a sigh, eyes rolling back of their own accord, she was still exhausted but he sat her up again so she would drink. She was barely awake, but enough so to swallow down the water down in hefty, eager gulps.

She mumbled incoherently when she fell back again, eyes closed, and her arm reaching out for something. He caught her hand and that seemed to sate her, but she still grumbled - nothing intelligible to his ears.

"Go to sleep," he murmured while his free had moved across her forehead, brushing hair away again while also checking for irregular heat. No fever - good. Unconsciousness took over again and he didn't untangle his hand from hers until the sun steadily lit up the sky and others began to wake. It was Sophia who came to the cell first, offering to take up watch over her. She said the girls would be up soon and he would be better at holding them off, though they understood when she'd told them that their mother needed rest just like her mother did when she came back, they were antsy. He nodded as he stood up slowly with stiff limbs and ruffled the kid's hair, mumbling a thanks as he left the cell.

It wasn't long after the cell block was fully lit by the climbing sun, breakfast was served, and the arguments began. It was a struggle between stay or go, again. The question of allegiance wasn't of any concern, though the way comments were muttered among the group it seemed a line was being drawn in the dirt. They couldn't even go outside in fear of another sniper, not even their wood pallet shields could protect them from piercing, precise rounds like that. They were trapped like rats and needed to figure their shit out.

To run would show and prove weakness. To run would mean that monster of a _Governor_ would continue living; and the Governor was a man who held too much power and control over people who knew nothing of the madness that reigned supreme over his mind; he was too dangerous to keep alive.

To stay meant certain death, it was undeniable. They didn't have the guns or the numbers the Governor had, and as Merle _comfortingly_ explained, since they missed their opportunity to leave last night and live to fight another day, the Governor had options, he could starve them out if he really wanted to.

The block was eerily silent with fear from Merle's words, the weight of them not making the situation any less heavy. They were way out of their depth.

Maggie stared down the man behind the bars who'd kidnapped her and Glenn, "Let's put him in the other cell block," she said with a frown in place.

"No," Daryl grunted from the second level, "He's got a point."

"This is all you! You started this!" Maggie bursted, but her accusations didn't do anything but cause the elder Dixon to roll his eyes.

"What's the difference whose fault it is?" Beth shouted, though her voice still held that timid, soft tone it always did, "What do we do?"

"I said we should leave; now Axel's dead." Hershel stated, seated on the bottom most steps of the stairs and fixing Rick with a steady look. The former lawman met his gaze with something of a balanced mix of shock and anger. "We can't just sit here," Hershel said firmly, but there was an underlying plead, because he wasn't trying to blame Rick, he was trying to convince him. But it appeared fruitless when Rick gave a parting glance and started toward the common area.

"Get back here!" Hershel's voice boomed and echoed, and it halted Rick's steps. He turned enough to see the older man shuffling toward him quickly on his crutches, "You're slippin', Rick. We've all seen it, we understand why, but now is not the time."

Rick flinched internally. Hershel continued, "You once said this isn't a democracy, now you have to own up to that. I put my family's life in your hands. So get your head clear, and do something."

After that Rick really did leave the block, with a pair of binoculars and his gun, but he maneuvered his way through the inside to come out through the other block entrance, taking up look-out for a while, surveying their front yard perimeter.

There was a whining groan after the sound of Rick's boots clicked out of hearing distance, and looking toward the wall of cells there was movement within one until a head of messy blonde hair poked out enough to lean heavily against the bars.

Lacey blinked blearily, hardly focusing on anything for too long, squinting and wincing as she glanced around the block. She scoffed and tried to run a hand through her mussed hair, eyes falling closed as she muttered, "Oh, my god, he's not a goddamn ape," referring to Merle, who she saw caged up at the end of the block, but then she paused, tilting her head to one side with a halfway thoughtful expression on her tired features, "Well... Maybe a little bit, but he's not gonna gut us or anything, Jesus," she ended with a yawn and disappeared back into the cell with Sophia's careful guidance, and she was out again in seconds.

There was a lull in the strain, just for a brief moment where the survivors glanced from the cell to one another and allowed a twitch of lips to morph into a small grin or a quick cough of laughter.

The morning continued on with Rick passing off watch to Maggie - Carl trailing after her - and a discussion of ideas on how they might be able to climb their way out of this hole that was the beginning of war and would ultimately end in unneeded bloodshed. They were trapped in the prison since their front door was kicked in and allowed walkers to stumble into field, any ammo they had they couldn't waste on the dead. They were also running low on food, a point that Glenn drove home when responding to Daryl's 'We've been here before, we'll be alright,' that then it was only them, that there wasn't a snake in the nest before.

Glenn was justified in his hatred toward Merle, but with Daryl stating that they should all just get used to him being here, as well as Hershel noting Merle's unshakable loyalty to his brother, that appeared to be the end of it. Merle was there to stay. He was a valuable ally to have on their side, they weren't going to throw him back to the Governor; some actions were just, but a fate left in the Governor's hands, that was far too cruel and unusual a punishment.

Sophia was nudged off Lacey-duty when Sam took over, and the teen didn't offer any argument when Sophia said that she would be back soon. Apparently Sophia liked the change of pace, caregiving instead of dispatching of walking corpses.

Sam noted the cleaner visage Lacey was sporting as she slept; Jo, Daryl or Sophia had to have done it, but she wasn't sure which it could've been. Her mind began to wander just as her eyes peered critically over the woman she considered a sister, lost for so long, as far as appearances went she seemed the same as before, if not slightly better fed.

But Sam knew Lacey was different, just like everyone else was different, far from the people they used to be on Greene Farm. She'd anticipated it, but she hadn't exactly expected this; a weaker Lacey, at least in physical terms. She seemed fine when they first found her the previous day, filthy and toting a rifle like some kind of apocalypse-jungle-woman. But she sensed a new essence of anger within the Black woman, the way she screamed with violent words dripping off her tongue, the way she'd taken to a gun far better than she had months and months ago. She seemed hesitant when she gave orders to shoot to kill, but her actions denied that wary front when executing said orders.

With what information Merle provided she could understand her anger. Treated like some kind of spectacle in Woodbury, negative reinforcements making her believe she was crazy, but as it turned out, her body and mind were being altered without her knowledge so she was in fact slightly off kilter. But Sam wanted to know Lacey's version of her time in Woodbury, the straight facts, from the horse's mouth, so to speak. Merle wasn't there all the time, as was noted when Lacey mentioned 'what could've been going on with Merle's back turned'. She couldn't stand the idea of Lacey being... taken advantage of. That just... that wasn't her. Lacey was strong, and tough and- and-

She pushed the thought aside, storing it for later, not wanting to work herself up. Because maybe nothing happened, maybe the men of Woodbury weren't all like the Governor (there was something awkward floating between Glenn and Maggie; Sam had her suspicions, but just like with Lacey she just couldn't picture someone getting the upper hand with Maggie).

Sam halted her thoughts when she saw a figure wander by, as if her mind was broadcasting loud and clear to those within a ten foot radius of the cell. Carol shot her a warm smile as she passed and from the neighboring cell she could her soft tones murmuring her gratefulness that 'you're back'. Carol was answered by a gravelly voice, and Sam startled, slapping her palms down to the hard floor beneath her to keep herself steady; if her thoughts really were transmitting out to the nearest listeners tuning in then... shit. She had no idea Daryl finally set up a cell of his own, let alone the one next to Lacey's. She noticed his shift in attitude; no one could say Sam Rome wasn't perceptive. He was different when in the company of Merle, reverting back to his former self, the way he used to be, though his brave new self itched to surface and shine. But what he'd changed to since Lacey's return was definitely more... concerning.

She knew their relationship dynamics first hand. They weren't ridiculous and warm and cuddly. There was really no time for that shit. It was more of a partnership than strictly romance. They were two halves of a badass whole; a solid team. And they occasionally found time to _relieve stress with each other_ but Sam didn't linger on that thought because ew. They were right together, a complementing pair. Sam was the instigator in marrying them, too. She found the ring and told Daryl to man up because time wasn't a commodity that they could waste anymore. Lacey still wore that ring, that meant something. But Daryl... was... something else.

From the next cell over Carol said her thanks for him saving her from the tombs and after a brief pause she heard her say he saved Lacey, too, reassuring him that she'd be better soon. There was another bout of silence and Sam looked to Lacey beside her. She believed it, she would get better. Physically - and maybe a little mentally - weak or not she wouldn't let that hinder her, she was still very much a survivor.

"He's your brother but he's not good for you. Don't let him bring you down... After all, look how far you've come." Carol's voice broke the quiet, and a moment later soft chuckling could be heard.

"Beat it, kid," Jo said as he came into view at the doorway of the cell and Sam put on an unimpressed look, "You're on baby sitting now. Also, I saw your arrows, those are freakin' _heinous_, you should clean them."

The teen couldn't contain her snort, but stood up all the same, letting Jo take up the space on the floor she was previously warming.

"Hey," she paused at the bars when he called for her and she turned to Jo with a questioning brow raised, "D'you wash the makeup from her eyes?" he asked.

Well that narrowed it down, and if she was honest she struck Daryl from the running of courtesy-cleaning-culprits given his moody demeanor toward Lacey. She shook her head, "Must've been Sophia."

The day soldiered on, the separating gate to the common area was opened and Merle was allowed to roam about the public, and just as well the public were allowed access to the common area. Jo - whose arm was fairing well with the assistance of pain killers - Amy and Sam were sent to check out the internal flood, take out any that were wandering too close to the block, past the boiler room, then report back. Merle tried to clear the air with Michonne; claiming he was only following orders, Michonne compared him to the Gestapo ("Exactly," he agreed). He said he'd done a lot of things he wasn't proud of, and he hoped that since they were housed under the same roof that they could let bygones be bygones (It was a start). Carol was fixing lunch, making careful portions. Sophia took over Lacey-watch, Beth had kid-duty, but eventually lost Erin and Honey to Sophia when they squirreled their way into the cell with her. Sophia said it was okay when Beth followed after them with a stern look, as long as they were quiet and careful they could stay. Erin tapped a finger to her sealed lips and Honey mimicked the motion before staring on at their mother.

The moderate degree of peace was shattered when Carl came rushing into the block calling for the others, saying someone was coming. They were scrambling among the cell block when Jo, Amy and Sam arrived back, Jo spoke up for them, "What the fuck is going on?!"

"Someone's breached the gates," was Rick's short response.

"It's Andrea," Carl expanded and rushed off to Beth and Sophia, telling them to stay where they were.

With Amy between them, Jo and Sam stiffened, chancing a cautious glance toward her. Amy appeared just as shocked-still as they were. Since learning Andrea was alive and apparently in cahoots with Woodbury, Amy had taken it a little hard, but she kept what ever emotions that plagued her contained, didn't project anything outward, she kept a stoic expression, didn't bat a lash. But now, it seemed, that emotional build up was going to get the best of her. The young blonde clenched her jaw and shook her head, rushing forward to the common area to drop off the crow bar in her grip in exchange for a rifle, she grabbed two more guns and gave them to Jo and Sam before racing up the steps, "Let's go," she said, and the two followed obediently.

Glenn, Carol, Amy, Sam and Jo took up the gated walk way, crouched behind the wood pallets, Maggie was still stationed at her watch spot at the other entrance, while the rest, excluding the children and Beth (and unconscious Lacey), moved with well practiced defensive stratagem.

From the top they kept the horizon covered, just as the others below kept Rick covered while he approached the gate where Andrea was calling for him to open up.

"Are you alone?"

"Open the gate!"

"**Are you alone**?!" he called again, but was only answered with a desperate shout of his name. The walkers were getting closer to her, attracted to the large presence in the yard, and realizing that their was something out there among them that was even closer.

The lock gave and the gate was wrenched open enough for the blonde to jump through then slammed closed just as soon as she was in. And just when she thought she could relax, away from imminent harm, Andrea was roughly grabbed by the arm and urged face forward into the chain link fence.

Rick picked her gun and knife from her, and pulled her away from the fence when a walker crashed up from the other side to meet her, pulling a startled scream from her throat. Directing her to her knees he pulled her bag away from her and practically growled, "I asked if you were alone."

With her hands still up in surrender and panting for breath she uttered, "I am!" looking up at the officer in dazed astonishment. This wasn't the warm reception she was expecting.

"Welcome back," Rick grumbled flatly, then got his hand around her elbow, "Get up."

There was a shift in the atmosphere when Andrea entered the prison. With the whole group slowly making their way back inside she took in the surroundings, what they were subjected to; it made Woodbury look luxurious. Much to her surprise it was Carol who rushed to her first instead of her sister, arms open and enveloping her in a tight embrace. She murmured apologetically about them leaving her, thinking she was dead. But she already knew that, she spent eight months with a constant reminder that though they thought she was dead two had come back for her - as well as a stranger (something Michonne continued to be, so it seemed). That reminder stood beside her sister, long brown hair tamed into its usual braid, but her usual sweet, kind face was void of emotion - a mirror image of everyone else's expression, including her little sister.

Andrea looked to Amy, overwhelmed with elation, she raised a hand to her, and for a few moments it was silent - delicate, suspenseful - until all witnessed the younger break, and almost begrudgingly rush forward to hug her sister.

"Thank god," Andrea breathed and petted a hand over Amy's hair, and then Amy stiffened beneath her touch and pulled away with a short biting laugh. Andrea's confusion was left unanswered when Amy took a few steps away until she felt Jo's hand hand on her back, anchoring her again.

Andrea looked to Sam, assuming she would be next, but the teen avoided her gaze, snapping her eyes off to the side to glance determinedly toward the floor.

The silence was made all the more awkward when she swept her gaze over each survivor, verbally noting loss of limbs or red tinted bandages, as well as the absence of two group members; Shane and Lori. Sam cast a brief glance toward Carl when Hershel explained that Lori had a girl, but didn't survive. And not only had they lost Lori that day but T-Dog, too. With apologies on the tip of her tongue, addressing the Grimes men, Andrea knew better than to tread over that sensitive topic, she looked back to her sister, "You all live here?"

It was a weak attempt at casual, but when she made a move toward the block the tension was clear, the line was drawn.

"I'm not an enemy, Rick." Andrea tried to laugh it off when Rick blocked her path, but no one else was laughing.

Rick took in a quick breath before gesturing toward the door, outside, by extension, "We had that field and the courtyard until your boyfriend tore down the fence with a truck and shot us up," he stated just as casually as she had tried to make the situation.

"He said you fired first," was her immediate response, and from where she was, focused on Rick, she didn't see her younger sister struggle to stay standing, to keep it together, though her eyes watered and her chin trembled with a mix of feelings. Jo remained solid for her, and Sam made to move toward her to offer her support too, but then there was a coo of a voice inquiring for their 'Daddy'. There was half a second spent with all eyes glued on the girls at the cell block gateway before Sam was snatching Honey up from the floor and encasing her free hand into Erin's, keeping them close. Andrea wasn't given enough time to register what those actions meant, or the swimming sensation in her gut at the sight of the girls when Rick spoke again.

"Well, he's lying."

"He killed the inmate who survived in here," Hershel said.

Daryl's roughened voice added, "We liked him. He was one of us." The latter comment was meant to bite, and it did.

"Put Rocket out of commission for a while," Jo said, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

"Jo was shot in the arm," Amy's voice cracked.

A hand flew up to Andrea's mouth as she shook her head, the picture of disbelief, "I didn't know anything about that... As soon as I found out I came. I didn't even know you were in Woodbury until after the shoot out."

"That was days ago," Glenn said, denying her the metaphorical foothold she scrambled for purchase for.

"I told you, I came as soon as I could." But Andrea was rewarded with judgmental stares, or eyes completely avoiding her, blank expressions - distrust. She spun around toward Michonne who was poised against a section of gating, "What have you told them?"

"Nothing," the woman replied easily, because she was still as tight lipped as ever. Any hostility they directed toward Andrea was all their own, all her own actions causing it - or rather her choices not to act.

Andrea floundered for a moment before dejectedly saying, "I don't get it. I left Atlanta with you people and now I'm the odd man out?"

"He almost killed Michonne and he would've killed us," Glenn stated with just a small percentage of the heat that backed those words.

"With his finger on the trigger." Andrea immediately pointed to Merle, "Isn't he the one who kidnapped you? Who beat you?" Her hands came to her face for a moment to collect herself when it seemed that even _Merle_ was now in their good books and she was cast out as a traitor, "Look, I cannot excuse or explain what Phillip has done, but I am here trying to bring us together. We have to work this out."

"Please," a new voice hit the air, laced with exhaustion, unimpressed. Heads swiveled toward the open gate way where Lacey stood with a hand clutching a metal bar of the gate and the other loosely holding onto Sophia's tight grip. From behind them Beth stood as a probable means of back up support, Lacey didn't look all that stable, if her white knuckles on the gate were any indication.

It seemed even Lacey's girls were shocked into silence, letting Andrea alone speak up with stuttered doubt, "My god, Lacey. Phillip said you committed suicide sometime during the shoot out, Keenan was devastated, he -,"

"_Oh_, is that what _he said_? Well, it **must** be true. I must be a ghost then if _Phillip_ says so," Lacey cut her off with heavy sarcasm, "You hopped into bed with him, didn't you?" she asked with a soft laugh. Andrea didn't respond, her mouth just slackened. Lacey's eyes widened in faux-surprise as she shook her head once, "_Wow_. I thought - well, I wasn't really sure what to think of you, but now I see you've turned over a new leaf, haven't you?"

Andrea's vocal chords seemed startled into silence, prompting Lacey to continue, "No more Andrea demanding to get a cut of the men's work, huh? Must've been a shock to the system to see a man after such a long time with just a couple girls as company. _Finally a man to take care of me_, right, something like that? Strange... And hey, I know I'm not the best of examples when it comes to... well, anything these days - and that's thanks to your almost lover, by the way - but remember? All those months ago? I went after you. I didn't have to. In fact, I was told not to since we thought you were dead, but I did. _I went back for you_."

Lacey took a shaky step forward, and like two shadows, Sophia and Beth weren't far behind. But unlike her questionable physical strength Lacey words kept on strong, "Because I couldn't stand idly by not knowing what became of you; if you were still out there fighting for your life, or if you were a walker? I went because I knew that you would've done the same for me. It wasn't about settling debts or future favors, I did it because I knew it was right... But then," she chuckled drily, "I was stolen, fucking _captured_, and turned into the mess I am today," she raised her free arm with a flourish, but that seemed to throw her balance, Beth was there in an instant, a hand on her arm and shoulder, keeping her upright.

The blonde continued on without half a breath's pause, "And when I see you again, in the same town I'm held prisoner in, you were so happy to see me, but so quick to disregard every word I said, so quick to believe that man - that fucking monster - and take his word as gospel."

Andrea seemed to spark to life again, mouth opening and closing, searching for a response, but Lacey wasn't finished yet.

"I spent eight months there. You spent little over a week and you think you've got him figured out? You think you can change him? The way he thinks, the way he operates? Work around what he's created?" Lacey's voice climbed near to hysteria, but it calmed when she shook her head, "I tried. I tried until I couldn't anymore... I told you to run while you still could, and Michonne was smart enough to listen and go on, even without either of us."

Andrea shot Michonne a quick glance, but was met with a stony expression, she looked back to Lacey who was smirking a crooked bitter smile, "I suppose I have one thing to thank you for though... Distracting him long enough so I could make my escape, so I could go home, back with my people, where I belong. So thank you." Her smirk dropped and she rose a scolding finger at her, her tone sharp and strict, "But don't even begin to think you've got a handle on him. You're not the first woman he's told his name to."

When Lacey stumbled again, knees nearly giving out beneath her Rick stepped forward, deadly serious, "We're gonna kill him. I don't know how or when, but we will."

Andrea shook her head, eyes pleading, "We can settle this. There is room at Woodbury - for all of you."

Merle tsked, "You know better than that."

"What makes you think this man wants to negotiate? Did he say that?" Hershel asked.

"No," Andrea said quietly, eyes cast down.

"Then why did you come here?"

"Because he's gearing them for war. The people are terrified. They see you as killers. They're training to attack," she said, and from the look in her eyes she really did appear worried about possible battle.

"Tell you what," Daryl said (Sam was amazed to hear him speak while in the same room as Lacey, though he'd gone awkwardly rigid when she staggered into the common area. She needed this mystery solved and fast), "Next time you see Phillip, you tell him I'm gonna take his other eye."

"We've taken too much shit for too long. He wants a war he's got one," Glenn firmly stated.

Andrea couldn't seem to believe it, she implored the man she once saw to as her leader, "Rick, if you don't sit down and try to work this out I don't know what's gonna happen... He has a _whole town_. Look at you, you've lost so much already, you can't stand alone anymore."

"He's out for our blood. He wants a fight, he lives for the kill, he wants to be the last man standing," Lacey said, and vaguely she could register Merle across the room, nodding in agreement. "But it doesn't have to be that way if you just remember whose side you're on, where your family is," Lacey gestured around the group, lingering longer on Amy who was still trying her hardest to keep it together. "_You_ can end this."

"You wanna make this right, get us inside," Rick offered the ultimatum, and Andrea was quick to refuse, and with her refusal Rick was just as quick to dismiss himself from the room, going into the cell block, stating that they had nothing left to talk about while she rose her voice over him saying, "There are innocent people!"

The block was quiet again, and the group began to disperse. Lacey was taken back to her cell, Sam trailing close behind with two girls excited to see her conscious again. Chores were taken up again, watch stations filled, and Andrea was left in the company of her former friend and her sister.

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The girls seemed to tire out quickly when (finally) snuggled up to their mother (again) on the incredibly small bunk. An act none of them thought they would have the pleasure of feeling again. Lacey showered them with kisses and held them close, murmuring incoherently about never, ever, ever, ever splitting up again. She dropped a kiss on a forehead each before Sam plucked up Honey and Jo did the same with Erin, settling them in the next cell - Daryl's cell. Sam left them alone when Jo returned to the cell, knowing that he deserved some brother-sister time, knowing that he needed it as much, if not more, than she did. She'd have time to talk to Lacey later - hopefully.

Jo encased his sister in an iron grip of a hug, even with a somewhat-bum arm his embrace was lung collapsible-y tight.

"Missed you."

"Missed you, too. Thought I was dead?"

"Yep."

"Me too."

Jo snorted, glad to have his sister back though he was aware she was unlike the woman that left camp all those months ago. Regardless of that, he still missed her and loved her and was grateful she was home. He didn't bring up any hard hitting questions, not yet at least. From what Merle had told him it seemed pretty straight forward, she was put on drugs she didn't have a tolerance for, unknowingly making her dependent, and sooner (probably presently) rather than later she'd experience withdrawal symptoms... But he couldn't help himself when the ridiculously worded wondering tumbled from his mouth, he heard it from Sam, but he had to hear it from her.

"So... Word out in the yard is you got knocked up by your Prince Charming."

She looked amused more than anything, apparently it was a scar that no longer held a phantom twinge, "Yeah?

He shrugged with a small smirk, "It's floating around out there."

Lacey snorted before she nodded, "Seemed like a neat idea at the time, a baby during the end of the world, what could possibly go wrong? Didn't really follow through though..." and then he saw a flicker of remorse flash across her face, but it was quick, because just a blink later she had that pleasant look back in place, "What about Lori, she should've had the baby by now, if I'm counting right. Or is the kid still marinating?"

Jo's brow quirked up slightly as he answered slowly, "Yeah, she had the baby."

"And the baby's okay?!" her eyes were wide, crinkling at the corners when Jo nodded, "Can I see?" she asked, not at all registering the baffled yet grave expression coloring her brother's face.

"Sure," he said, standing, "just - hold on."

Jo took the stairs two at a time, his mind reeling. She was awake, she was among the rest of the group, she was part of that conversation a while ago. What was-? Judith was in a half way state between sleep and awake, she made little grunting sounds when Jo plucked her up from her little box and carried her back down stairs and into the cell where Lacey was still wide eyed. Her eyes grew wider when Jo transferred the baby into her arms.

"Oh, my god," Lacey mumbled quietly, "She looks like Carl," she chuckled softly, shooting Jo a bright grin, and Jo matched it... until Lacey asked, truly curious, with eyes cast back toward the baby, "Where's Lori?"

And it seemed to strike him then. Realizing she hadn't walked into the conversation to hear the excellent ice breaker that was the unfortunate demises of their fallen. Lacey glanced up when the silence didn't break and met the grave look on her brother's face.

"No... No," she shook her head when Jo looked down to his shoes, "No, no, no," she mumbled as her chest tightened painfully and her vision began to blur with tears. She couldn't believe it. It couldn't be possible.

"Maggie, Sam and Carl were there. Sam said she chose the baby's life over hers. Only one of them was going to make it and..." Jo trailed off, he didn't really need to say anything more, and his throat was closing around a lump when he saw the tears falling hot and fast down Lacey's face.

Judith, who'd been calmly preoccupied with staring up at Lacey like she was a dirtier, older version of Beth, began to whine and squirm when she rattled along with repressed sobs shaking through Lacey's chest.

Lacey gasped in a breath and rocked with no particular rhythm, "Oh, no, no. Hey, it's alright," she called softly, sniffling, "It's alright, shhh..." Judith still struggling and grunted, fists bunched tightly, tiny brow pinching in the middle, "What's her name?"

"Carl named her Judith."

"That's beautiful, Lori would've -," Lacey's words halted on her tongue, _Lori would've liked that._ "Judith. Hey little girl. Little Jude."

Jo said that Beth's singing had a way of calming her down and lulling her to sleep. Lacey nodded, sniffling once more before softly murmuring Beatles lyrics of _Hey Jude_ - because that was the appropriately cliche song that immediately sprang to mind. Her voice cracked and broke now and again, but it did the trick, Judith's pained features softened, she relaxed into Lacey's arms and her little brown eyes fell closed.

She saw Carl peek around the corner, a vacant - with underlying curiosity - expression on his face. She apologized, brushing away her tears, trying to get a hold of herself as she mumbled about knowing the feeling - the two years after her parents death she, as well as Ben and Rob, were constantly a target for pity; watery eyes, pursed lips and words of sorrow. Every time it was a jabbing reminder to them that, yes, their parents were indeed dead, and they were alone. Kind words weren't so kind when they wouldn't let the wound heal over. Moving on was hard when it was always brought back to mind, fresh.

But Carl just shook his head, saying it was okay, because they were best friends, and Lori cried a lot, too, when Lacey never came back. The boy had definitely matured in her absence. She thanked him, and he took a seat next to Jo while he explained the inmates that were in the prison upon their arrival, and the two that were genuine and became a part of their group. It might've been because the water works were already in effect, but Lacey just couldn't seem to keep it together knowing these strangers died for her family. Good men that didn't need to die.

"Alright," Lacey huffed and slowly eased herself to sit up properly, "Carl, you wanna take your sister and deposit her into her... uhh... where ever she sleeps?"

Carl nodded and took her carefully, disappearing from the cell, followed by the sound of steps on stairs. She turned to Jo, a determined glimmer to her eyes.

"Now you, dear brother, will help me walk around before I go stir crazy. Give me a tour of our humble abode."

Lacey didn't get a tour. With the sky darkening a tour wasn't possible or safe. And Jo was soon called on to help Glenn gas up an old patrol car within the prison grounds.

With legs stronger and less likely to fail her Lacey was left to her own devices, and she found Rick out on the gated walkway boarded up with pallets. She approached slowly, assessed him while wondering if she would be doing the disturbing or appeasing thing by offering him company. But selfishness got the better of her, she missed him and hadn't received a proper greeting of _welcome back_ like she got from the others. And she, of course, had to extend her apologies. Her throat shrank at the thought rising in her mind again, but she swallowed it away.

"Evening, Mister Grimes." She stepped carefully, but her footing became surer when his eyes drew away from the horizon of tree tops to look at her and rewarded her with a minute upward pricking at the corner of his mouth. He looked back toward the prison perimeter, where the gate stopped and the forest began, while she made her way toward him.

"Met your daughter. Heard about her nickname, a real Dixon original," she chuckled and that smirk on his mouth tugged a little more. She paused when she finally reached him, but she didn't lay a hand on him, she just let the silence hang in the air for a while longer before she stammered to speak again, "Uhm... Jo told me what happened," she saw a slight flinch, "I don't want to open old wounds, but... I am so sorry," her voice wobbled and then she did rest her hand, gingerly, on his arm.

"Yeah..." he looked down to his boots, "Yeah, me too." He didn't shrug off her touch, but almost a minute passed before he finally looked at her. Seeing the same devastation in her eyes like he still felt. He was hugging her before he was aware of even moving. Though her frame wasn't at all similar to Lori's it still brought the warm comfort of familiarity.

"We survive by remembering..." she murmured as her hand rubbed over his back, the other staying pressed against the back of his neck, keeping him close, "And sometimes we survive by forgetting." He nodded sharply, squeezing his eyes closed.

They broke apart when they both felt strong enough to, and Rick huffed a laugh softly before muttering, "I think there's some kind of illusion of hope solely based on your word on Merle that'll settle his place here with us."

"Oh yeah?" A single brow rose, "My word? Hoping for a bad one?"

Rick shrugged, "He's stayin' anyway, but what d'you say?"

Lacey mimicked his shrug, "Solid soldier. He's protective of those that are special enough rouse emotion out of him. He can... _almost_ apologize."

"He was good to you then?"

"Yeah," she affirmed without hesitation, "He was good." Because when it really came down to it Merle never hurt her in any way. Funny enough, Merle, she believes, was what kept her sane in Woodbury. Oh, sweet irony.

With dusk approaching Rick felt a sudden compulsion to confess to Lacey that he was seeing Lori; they knew each other long enough that he trusted and felt comfortable enough to divulge this information to her. He explained that he was aware that it's not really Lori, and it's not necessarily a ghost, but a projection his mind puts out. When Lacey looked wide eyed at him he was afraid he'd managed to freak her out until a grin broke across her face and she said, "Welcome to Crazytown, population: us." She explained her hallucinated encounters with her brothers as well as her parents. They were lucky to hold out that long, she said, before breaking, but they would be okay again, eventually.

"Glad you're back," he said with a tilt of his lips and dropped his hand on her shoulder. She smiled up at him, nodding, "Me too."

Lacey stayed behind with Beth and the kids when Andrea left the prison. She'd said her piece, there wasn't really anything left to say; her presence alone was a blatant enough statement. She offered Amy a look of encouragement when the group returned to the block. The younger blonde was suffering from inner turmoil that was visible from the outside. This was the second time she lost her sister, but this time of her own volition - that had to sting something awful. Andrea was persuasive but they were all hoping against hope that she would do the right thing, the thing that _had_ to be done...

As the night grew darker, the younger children rose from sleep to take part in a small meal before bed time called again. The group gathered around a lit lantern on the floor, a few candles sparsely arranged guided a trail through the cell block as the darkness crept closer to complete blackness.

It was quiet aside from whispered conversations. From her place against the wall below the windows nestled comfortably between Sophia and Erin, Sam could hear, as well as see, Lacey trailing after a curiosity-stricken Honey who was hobbling her way toward the common area gating where Merle was leaning. The blonde had nearly sobbed out in a mix of emotions when seeing the toddler walk, no longer the baby she remembered her to be. And the most amusing thing out of all of it was the way Merle looked just slightly terrified of the determined, tiny, pig-tailed blonde. Lacey snorted asking what was wrong with him and he glared in response, backing away from the little girl as she stepped closer until she stumbled and fell backward onto her diapered bottom. Merle protested further when Lacey hauled the girl up from the floor and kept on toward him.

"I got a damn knife taped to my arm, don't gimme that kid!" he warned, seriously.

"She's intrigued!" Lacey snorted again, "She remembers me kicking your ass after you threatened her life. Aww, precious memories."

Sam chuckled softly, but then glanced toward Daryl, standing almost opposite her against the cells beside Hershel. She felt a burning urge to understand just what the hell was getting his feathers ruffled, but she knew now wasn't exactly the best of times. Tomorrow maybe she'd get him to talk, but not now. Not when Beth broke the silence and started to sing.

Singing... She hadn't, hell, none of them had probably been treated to a song in a long time - not since the farm. And then it had been Lacey fighting against the blush coating her skin and a nervous tremor in her throat. Outwardly, Beth didn't show any signs of embarrassment. And when Lacey wandered back toward the group surrounding the lantern, taking a seat with Honey in her lap she politely declined when Beth looked at her to join, "These pipes are _way_ out of practice," she quietly laughed.

The corners of Beth's mouth turned up as she continued on her own. Sam caught Lacey looking Daryl's way before sharply turning her gaze back toward the lantern, appearing visibly relieved when Honey turned in her lap to babble directly at her. She followed where Lacey's focus had been and saw Daryl fit with a blank stare on his face, a thousand yards away until Rick slowly came down the steps with his arms full with Judith.

What ever the hell this was she was going to sort it out. This wasn't like Lacey and this wasn't like Daryl - this wasn't _them_. She couldn't be the only one painfully aware of the weird tension between them. The last time something like this happened they both sort of pulled their heads from where they were firmly lodged in their asses to fix it, but that didn't appear to be the case this time; she would have to intervene. But like she'd agreed with herself before, that was something that could be dealt with tomorrow.

She took her eyes away from the whispering men by the cells to give her full attention to Beth, it wasn't a song she was familiar with but damned if it wasn't her new favorite tune.

Beth's voice gradually became lower in volume as the song reached its end, successfully lulling the younger ones, and even some of the adults, into a drowsy, relaxed state.

Lacey stood like the floor was made of shards of glass heated to a toasty three hundred degrees and hastily made her way to Rick. The rest of the group lazily made their way toward their cells but Sam kept her eye on Lacey, fighting the urge to shake her head when Honey insistently reached for Daryl and he scooped her away without even brushing a finger tip against Lacey through the transfer. Lacey wasn't any better, the way she kept her focus on Rick as Daryl made a quick escape to his cell.

It was great to have her back, even greater to have her conscious again, but _**this**_, along with Merle's re-entry into the group, plus Andrea's impromptu visit, wasn't exactly how she pictured the big reunion and life continued with her family.

Sam heaved out a sigh as she hefted herself off the floor and walked to Rick to ask about her watch shift after seeing Lacey scurry toward the common area, a flash of a smile thrown her way. But Rick told her Lacey had it covered, and she could sleep until someone woke her up to switch off. Sleep sounded great, sleep definitely sounded like a thing she could do. Put these racing thoughts to rest - literally - and take care of shit tomorrow. Yeah. _Tomorrow things would be better_.

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* * *

Note: Angst! I am seriously so done with angst, but this is how this story goes! Ain't nothin' ever gon' be happy! Well maybe... Or maybe not. Hah! I'm a bastard! Anyway! I had hoped updates would be quicker, BUT I have a severe case of writer's block. I have everything mapped out and sectioned off, but it's just not - working. You know what I mean? So bear with me people. I'll get my shit together eventually! The Walker will definitely be completed before October and the new season starts, awww SNAP! (I'm also in the midst of attempting to write my first Sterek story, shhh.) I'm trying though! I'm trying to do at least a page a day! But it's just - GAH! Angst is sort of draining. But I AM sticking with this! I'm not going to abandon it! I PROMISE!

Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead! Or any other things I might've borrowed in this chapter!

Thanks - to my precious beta who is a vision of patience and snark. Also many, many thanks for all the reviews I recieved. I think the reviews broke my account that day, because I wasn't getting any email notifications, but there were like eight reviews and they all blew me away, you guys are so kind.

Chapter inspired by -

_Hey Jude_ by The Beatles

[Anyone else remember that one Powerpuff Girls episode with The Beat Alls? Hah!]

_Baby, You Ain't Looking Right_ by Powersolo


	16. Chapter 16

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Beth's voice slowly tinkled and faded, giving way to silence, effectively loosening everyone up and making impending sleep come easier. But Lacey wasn't among those ready to call it a night. Her heart pounded hard in her chest as she sprang up and went straight for Rick. She was hardly paying attention to anything else happening around her, hushedly asking Rick if she could help out with first shift of watch for the night.

His brow rose in question before he encouragingly murmured, "You should get some rest."

"Nah, that's alright." She shook her head, looking toward her vacant arms; she blinked hard, twice, fighting against the plummeting swoop in her stomach gunning toward full blown - and unnecessary - panic. She quickly recalled no more than five seconds ago Daryl had taken Honey from her arms, and she wasn't suffering from sudden lapses in memory, she was fine. "I couldn't sleep another minute. I'm good for a watch shift."

"You sure?"

"Positive." She nodded and grinned smally, half-way embarrassed, "I practically slept for an entire day."

Rick nodded along with her and told her she could take a place on the cat walk, since it had a good view and good coverage, "Grab one of the rifles and wake up Sam when you wanna switch off."

"Got it. Thanks."

The lantern was turned off, but a few candles still burned like flickering night lights in the cell block.

.

Lacey sat with her legs folded beneath her, rifle in her lap as she kept her sights forward, peeking through a space between two pallets. No one, not even the Governor, was crazy enough to attack them at night. Night was a hundred times more dangerous than day, visibility low and nerves turned up to eleven - if a walker didn't smell someone by scent they'd sure as hell be lured toward them by the booming slams of their heart beat when roaming in the dark.

And given their _fancy new security system_ - á la the Governor - she would know if someone else was out there before she saw them by the attention of the walkers filling the field suddenly being diverted. They were sort of like a useful deterrent, like alligators in a moat - and the Governor was some bandit trying to storm their castle.

Thankfully, Lacey wasn't left too long with her preposterous thoughts. It was close to midnight, and she had been out for no longer than two hours when Michonne took a seat next to her. They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes until -

"You holdin' up alright?"

Startled, Michonne turned almost completely toward Lacey, but the woman still had her sights firmly set on the dark fences lit only by the stars and moon. Adorning the same, but far more destroyed than before, dress from days ago, hair a frazzled mess - she'd yet to pay a visit to the showers - she still looked the image of a damaged little doll. Though it wasn't just physical appearance; her expression, her eyes - it took someone who knew from firsthand experience to recognize she was faking like she was okay. A lot of shit had gone down in the last 72 hours and she was playing like she didn't escape from hell and reunite with her family - finally a win - just for more shit to cascade onto the fan. She wasn't okay, no one was that strong. "I should be the one asking you that," she said, still watching the woman and waiting for her response.

And Lacey just shrugged, "Everyone's going mother hen on me and I hate it. I'm 28 years old, I can handle a nervous breakdown or two... and apparently a couple fainting spells," she griped quickly, and paused, her eyes flickering downward to the cement beneath them for a moment. She looked out onto the perimeter again, eyes darting back and forth as she grumbled, "And I don't wanna-" She closed her eyes for a long moment, taking in a breath, "I- I can't really sleep..."

Michonne nodded in understanding.

Another pair of eyes set out toward the distance between slates in the pallets.

The blonde broke the silence again, clearing her throat before she began, "I was given the rundown on how they got here and Hershel's leg, and the prisoners that were holed up in the kitchen since the beginning. And Lori and T and why that happened, and Oscar and Axel..." She recalled all the things Jo had told her earlier, Carl adding his input now and then. "Sam mentioned Merle catching Maggie and Glenn and taking them to Woodbury..." she trailed off, because that's all she knew from the short interaction in the backwoods; she looked to her right, at Michonne, a silent motion for her friend to continue and fill in the blanks.

Michonne nodded, "Same day you cut your arm and never came back to that tree hollow," she scoffed a short humorless laugh, "Your _ingenious_ plan... Thought they might've picked you up, too."

Lacey smirked, looking down at the concrete, she snorted quietly, "Ah," and didn't raise her glance, "Nope, I was busy talking to ghosts, passing out, and hiding in tool sheds."

"Talking to ghosts, huh?" Michonne contained a small sympathetic grin as best she could.

"Yeah," she hummed. Sighing, she looked back toward the field, "Hung out with my brothers for a bit. Then my parents dropped by to lay some knowledge on me. My subconscious is totally inspirational, I had no idea I had so much faith in myself. Sorta refreshing, ya know?" Lacey swung her gaze to her friend, a serious expression playing on her face for a few moments before it cracked and a wide grin took its place.

Michonne bit her teeth into her bottom lip to keep a chuckle stifled. The next couple hours passed with Michonne relaying her tale of what occurred since Lacey was stolen up until the present.

"You don't think Sam killed anybody, do you?"

"Nah," Michonne answered quickly, noting the worry in the blonde's tone - though this wasn't the time for worry about innocence, somehow keeping some small percentage preserved seemed right; killing walkers was one thing, taking a human life... That innocence had to be preserved, it had to - "There was a lot of smoke from the grenades. She's not all that good with a gun, either. Provided cover fire, just to spook them, y'know?"

Lacey nodded. "I know it's, like... better them than you. But I just... sometimes I don't want the kids to have to do that. Take another living life. It's so shitty that it has to be like that. But, uh... You gotta do what you gotta do."

A short silence hung between them after Lacey shrugged her shoulders and stared out toward the prison grounds and Michonne looked on at her. In this world it was all about protecting each other, defending life, but Michonne knew that she couldn't withhold the information she had; she knew it wouldn't really protect Lacey if she kept it to herself. She was so broken already, just looking at her, it was obvious, no matter the facade, but Michonne had to tell her.

"Lacey, listen, there's..." she paused, glancing away for a second to collect herself before she began, "There's something I should tell you."

She waited until Lacey prompted her to continue, watched as those green eyes blinked like she was flinching, but then she nodded slowly, "I think I might know what it is..." her voice sounded just as far away as her gaze had taken her, "But I was hoping it wasn't true."

Michonne couldn't do much anything else than stare; stare until Lacey finally blinked again and turned her eyes to her, "Tell me," she said. "Tell the truth, tell me so that it's real. Lies won't make this world any less shitty, just tell me, Mich."

"I'm sorry..." was all she could manage when seeing that haunted look in Lacey's gaze.

"Michonne... Tell me what you know," the blonde stated slowly and carefully, her voice broke only when she begged, "Please."

"They..." And that's how it always seemed to start now, 'they', 'them', now that each group was aware of the other. _They_ did this, _we_ have to do something. _Us_ against _them_. "When we went back - like I said, I thought you were taken back, too - I went looking for you. You weren't at Merle's, I didn't expect you to be, not when you jumped the wall and, well, we know the Governor's not good man."

Lacey nodded in agreement and for her to press on.

"I went to the Governor's apartment. Thought you might be there, and I had some business to take care of..."

Lacey understood her reasoning for attacking the Governor. A ploy - and a (probably too) successful one at that - to get the Governor to reveal his true colors, to give Andrea enough evidence to realize this guy wasn't really the saint he claimed to be, that Woodbury wasn't heaven in this hell; he was the devil. (Pay back, as well, for sending men to _kill her_.) Considering the aftermath they had all survived from the previous day and Andrea baring witness to his lies and violence, hopefully she would understand now, see the error of her ways.

"At his desk, in one of his notebooks he had a schedule. It had your name at the top and, uh... from what I gathered, you were knocked out every night -,"

"Yeah, to mellow me out because I was such a _Tasmanian Devil reeking chaos all over town_," Lacey cut in dryly.

Michonne nodded, recalling the way Woodbury citizens would look at her like she was a demon, like her only motive was to steal their souls - little did _they_ know. "I flipped through the other schedules he'd drawn out because yours didn't seem to follow any kind of pattern, but then it synced up with watch shifts... Whenever Merle was set for a night watch... that guy, Grady... his name was marked on the nights that corresponded with Merle's shifts." She stopped there, believing and seeing Lacey connect the dots if the way her eyes widened and her face paled even more in the scarce moonlight was any indication.

"Gr-Grady..?" She managed a squeaking murmur maybe a minute later. It could've been hours, she couldn't be sure; Lacey's mind was occupied and racing with thoughts of doubt and memories. Something heavy like a stone dropped into her gut and she felt sick, thankful that she was sitting down otherwise she most likely would've keeled over. "Keenan, he -," she gasped in a breath like she'd been submerged for far too long, like she kept on getting dunked and dunked and never given enough time to get a few proper swallows of air, "That son of a bitch, that... You'd think people wouldn't- that people weren't capable of th- tha- those- those deplorable acts anymore. But of course they are, people are people, no matter what catastrophic shit is assaulting the world," Lacey halted and started, her voice a harsh, frantic whisper. "I- I- I mean, when I realized what was wrong with me, when I had that inkling that this sort of swimmy behavior was familiar, I- I thought, yeah, no, probably there are some creeps that would. I could count on both hands how many I would suspect, but he-," she stalled again and bit on the inside of her cheek, "I didn't suspect him, I-," she sighed, dropping her face into her hands, "Fuck."

Michonne raised a hand to touch her arm. Lacey was trying to keep it together but she was failing miserably. Her breath was coming out a quick, quiet bursts, and before Michonne could get a hold of her wrist Lacey was climbing to her feet, "I'm gonna- I need a minute, so I'm gonna..." she swallowed thickly, hands scrambling for the rifle when the heavy gun almost clattered to the ground, she caught strap and hauled it over her shoulder, "Gonna go get-," she cut off abruptly and went toward the doorway into the cell block.

Her stomached rolled unpleasantly when she first stood, head feeling lighter than air and her limbs feeling taut yet loose. She steeled her legs to at least carry her to the far end of the cell block where she could empty her guts into one of the toilet bowls with some imaginary amount of privacy. But it couldn't be that easy.

After the first two steps into the cell block she managed to keep a scream within her throat, not even letting out the tiniest shriek, but just a choking gasp instead when she saw a dark figure standing at the top of the stairs, leaning against the railing. She pressed a hand over her rabbit-paced thudding heart and quietly sighed, "What the _hell_."

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the block quickly enough that she recognized Daryl's form in just a few seconds after trying to steady her pulse, "What are you doing here? Who's with the girls?"

But just as soon as he started to speak the thought occurred to her like bullet to the back, ratcheting up her heart beat to that rapid pace all over again. "They're fine, I just -,"

She cut in sharply, "How long were you standing here? Did you hear all that?"

And by the way he didn't immediately respond, the way he wasn't looking at her, though he didn't even raise his head up when she'd entered the block, that was answer enough. Her stomach twisted up again, and she was sure she was going to puke right then.

"I didn't mean to listen in, I just can't -," Daryl let out a short sigh of frustration through his nose, "I'm worried about leavin' you alone, I came to check up on ya." And that was sweet. That was genuine, and it had to take a lot for him to admit that out loud - to her, even. But then he continued, "I'm afraid you're gonna run off and get stolen again." And that spoiled it. Any feeling of hope she felt was crushed, she was positive her chest was going to collapse... But not even heartbreak could make her swallow her tongue.

"Woah!" She corrected the level of her voice down to a hiss, it was the dead of night after all, and people were sleeping, and they didn't need to hear this, "I did **not** run off with a set agenda and hopes of getting stolen. I didn't even _know_ that was something that could happen still! Anything else my fault? You wanna guilt trip me for losing your baby in my jeans in the middle of the woods, too?"

Daryl went rigid, harshly grumbling, "I'm not blamin' you for anythin'!"

This was not how things were supposed to go now that she was back, this was - this, honestly, sucked!

"Well, excuse me for hearing it as it sounds; like you think I'm a crazy person that needs constant supervision. I got enough of that treatment in Woodbury, I don't need that from you, too!" She pointed at him and her voice cracked, "I'm not going to go off on a whim with longing of getting kidnapped and raped!" She saw him flinch and turn his eyes more attentively toward the floor, "I'm not going to throw myself to the walkers, I'm not going to kill myself! I'm fine! Why can't you- why can't anyone believe me when I say that?!"

He looked up then, but not directly at her, "Because you ain't fine! Have you looked at yourself?"

"No..." she murmured and brushed her fingers through her hair, snagging them through knots as she tucked the dirty strands behind her ear, "I mean, I haven't had the chance, yet." She looked down to her boots, her bruised legs, skin just as dirt, gore and sweat sodden as her filthy, shredded dress, her bandaged forearm from a self inflicted wound for a half baked plan that half worked - she was a mess, of course they were worried, of course they thought she wasn't in the slightest instance okay.

"So is this it? Since you heard... _that_. Are we finished?" She crossed her arms, trying her damnedest to ignore the stinging and wetness gathering along her bottom lashes, as well as a tightness in her gut that sat atop that still sickly feeling.

"What?" He finally looked at her, into her eyes, quickly answering, "No." His brow scrunched together and he shook his head, turning his gaze away from her again, "What are you- ?" He stopped and shook his head again, sighing, "Damn it," into his palms.

She uncrossed her arms, eyes still shimmering.

"This ain't the goddamn Middle Ages, alright? I don't think you're disgustin' or anythin'. Nothin' like that," he said in a pleading sort of tone when he removed his face from his hands, imploring for her to believe him. But she found it hard to believe, when _she_ firmly believed (and when it came to this relationship it was all she could really rely on) actions spoke louder than words.

"Then why has it been almost two days and you still haven't kissed me - barely even touched me at all?"

That was his cue, that was it, but he just stood frozen to the spot. Ten seconds passed before she couldn't take it any longer and moved past him, rushing down the steps and down the block until she reached the common area and kept running toward broken the pair of sinks on the far wall.

She bowed forward, retching twice before vomiting into the deep sink. The previous days worth of water and stale crackers she ate were expelled from her stomach. She faced another round that was just bile, acidic and burning her throat as it escaped her.

Way too much shit was happening. She couldn't focus on one thought as dozens blinked, blared and raced across her mind. Drugs. Family. Back home. A schedule. Keenan. Drugged on a schedule. Back home with family. Keenan having an under the table deal with the Governor concerning her unconscious body. Daryl hearing what Michonne told her, hearing what they both said. Fighting with Daryl, effectively pushing him further away - fuck!

She stayed hunched over the sink for a few minutes, cheek pressed into the cool steel in a futile attempt to soothe her burning skin, calm her frantic thoughts. She didn't move until she was sure she wasn't going to be sick again, though her stomach continued to knot and roll; she didn't have anything else to let loose anyway, she was totally empty.

Lacey swiped at the tears at the corners of her eyes that had been forced out during her bouts of sickness. But the more she wiped the moisture away, the more the wetness returned, quicker and hotter, streaming down her cheeks. She was crying; it wasn't just tears puking had summoned, she was crying.

"Fuck," she sobbed quietly, pressing the heel of her palm into one eye, shaking her head at how ridiculously pitiful she was being. There was no way she could go back out on watch, not when her vision was blurry and seemingly out of her control. She had to go rouse Sam to take up her place.

She didn't sniffle as she re-entered the block, stepping carefully and quietly, she walked along the open cell doors until she found Sam in the one where Rocket was recovering. Lacey called to the teen softly, voice crackling as she did. She reached out a cautious hand, touching her fingers to Sam's and the girl shot up quick as a bullet.

Lacey told her it was her turn for watch, but somehow, with no account to the darkness of the prison, or the measured quiet Lacey put into practice, Sam hesitated. She didn't say anything though, she climbed off the top bunk without a sleep-hazy tremble to her limbs and peered at the older woman. Lacey couldn't avoid her stare, couldn't stop the flood of tears.

Sam gathered her tightly into her arms and the two crumbled together to the floor. They leaned against the hard wall, the shoulder of Sam's shirt soaked through to the skin with moisture. Lacey didn't speak, and neither did Sam. She just held her close and let her clutch on as tightly as she needed to as she choked off sobs in her throat, body shaking, but no sound left her as she cried, and cried, and cried, until the first hints of sunrise tinted the sky.

.

The group was early to rise, aside from the younger children, with the sun just barely cresting over the tree tops. Sam and Amy were stationed on watch while Rick addressed the rest of the group.

"With what guns Lacey brought with her we're a little better off, but not enough; we still need more. And more ammo. A few of us will go back to King County to the Sheriff's station to pick up what's left."

"I'll go," Lacey offered, raising her hand up from the table. She was sandwiched between her brother and Carol, though they could stand to give a couple of inches of space, she figured the discreet press of Carol's thigh against hers, and Jo's shoulder bumping with hers now and again was all in effort to keep her grounded and calm. And though she lacked the courage to face a mirror and get a look at herself, she was sure the swelling hadn't completely dissipated yet from her early-morning hours-long cry. That, along with the sympathetic glances aimed her way since everyone woke, led her to believe her quiet discussion with Daryl hadn't been all that quiet. Just the garbage-flavored icing on the home-made-recipe shit cake.

But when every voice in the room responded loudly and almost all at once with, "No!", she couldn't help but jump from the surround sound and echo. Her startled expression wavered after only a moment and gave way to irritation.

She scoffed, "_Wow_!" Glancing around at them all, she gestured with beseeching opened palms, "No, _please_! Tell me what you all _really_ think." The sarcasm was laid on just as thick as the tension in the air.

Rick sighed, along with other dejected noises sounding in the room, as Lacey's arms fell with a thump onto the table. He approached slowly, "I'd prefer - we would all prefer it if you stayed here, Lacey." His eyes flickered around the room to include each person, and they nodded in agreement.

"Rick-," she began in a plead, but he reached across the table and took her hands into his, silencing her not only with his touch and his words, but with the look in his eyes, too.

"No. Please, just stay here," he stated firmly, though the edge of begging was evident in his tone, "We just got you back, we don't wanna lose you again. Get rested and cleaned up." He tapped his fingers on top her hand, nudging the orders home, "Protect our people while I'm gone. Just like old times, right?"

There was a long pause where she just flickered her sight between Rick's eyes, but around her she could feel the hitch in the air - as if everyone else was bracing for impact, anticipating her explosion - and that was not good. She didn't want to give off that vibe, like she was some kind of time bomb. They all knew more than they needed to about her stint in Woodbury and what it had entailed, what psychosis it had dragged to the surface. She didn't want them to fear her like the people in Woodbury did, these people were her friends, her family, she needed to show them, prove to them she wasn't crazy, that she was fine, she could cooperate. She relented, "Right."

"Thank you." Rick's hands squeezed hers once before releasing them and he stood up, calling out, "Carl, Michonne, get your gear ready, we're leavin' in five."

.

Once the SUV containing Michonne, Rick, and Carl disappeared from sight leaving nothing but kicked up dust in its wake, the gate was secured. The walkers pressed up against the fencing were easily taken care of before everyone filed back into the prison. Everyone had a task to busy themselves with after breakfast. Glenn and Jo decided to send a small group into the tombs to clear out any undead that wandered past the boiler room - something that would most likely become a daily, or even twice daily task. Glenn, Amy and Sam would go while Maggie, Sophia and Jo took up watch positions outside of the prison, shielded by the wooden pallets. Merle had already disappeared to god knows where, Judith was almost a constant presence in Beth's arms, Hershel tended to Rocket, and Carol handled the arduous process of laundry. Daryl had the girls and was dealing with some chores of his own, which left Lacey empty handed and to her thoughts - a dangerous way to occupy herself these days.

She was on the second level, contemplating taking a spot beside Jo out on the catwalk, but there were too many things she just wasn't ready to face. Though, there was no doubt he'd shoo her away and tell her to go rest since she was up half the night (all night, in honesty) on watch (and crying). She wasn't sure she was ready to see that look in his face, the one where a kid realizes their hero isn't all that heroic as they originally thought; luckily it was dark enough that she hadn't seen Sam's face last night, didn't have to see that crumbling disappointment.

She wanted to ignore it, for now at least. Until they got all this Woodbury-Governor-war shit sorted. Or maybe not even then, maybe just ignore it forever... Her inner turmoil was disrupted when a figure approached from her left.

Lacey shook away what she was sure was a distant, bugged eyed, crazed look from her face and turned to find Carol, carrying a plastic bin full of something, a tilted smile on her lips. She lowered the bin to the floor and retrieved a neatly folded stack of clothes, beneath those were a heap of damp clothes.

"That dress must have seen better days, but I'd say it's worn out its welcome," the older woman's smile stretched further as she extended the clothes to Lacey.

The blonde offered a faint grin in return, snorting out a quiet laugh as she looked down at her disheveled appearance, "You're right," she chuckled, "This look is _so_ five days ago."

She took the pile and sifted through it while Carol let out a few quiet barks of laughter. Her heart stuttered and her small grin twitched at the corners when she recognized a few items. They'd kept some of her clothes; shorts, jeans, a couple of tank tops and a t-shirt. She suspected Jo was the hoarder, she was grateful for it, but her stomach gave a small lurch thinking of her little brother mourning her death, incapable of getting rid of her stuff. The less to carry the better, but he'd taken the burden of hauling her stuff with his.

There was also a belt and uniform pants, Lacey didn't care to know where those had come from. She glanced up again to see Carol laying out the wet clothes to dry, she thanked her and the woman smiled warmly.

"So, uhm," Lacey started after a few long moments passed with her fingering the stitching of the uniform pants and Carol snapping out any lingering flecks of water from shirts and underwear before draping them over the railing. She paused, unsure of how to phrase it, incapable of making eye contact with Carol, "Did you, uhh, did you keep him company? I mean, while I was gone? Because -,"

Carol was quick to whip her gaze to Lacey, eyes wide and lips parted in silent horror. Her mouth opened and closed before she started to fumble, cutting Lacey off before she implied something outrageous, "What, no. No, I didn't- I didn't do _that_. I would never-! He- he never told us about giving you a ring, or- or-,"

Lacey's eyes widened then, stepping forward she rested her hand on the woman's arm in an attempt to calm her, "Woah, easy, Carol! I'm not - this isn't one of those, '_That's my fucking boyfriend_,_bitch_' deals. I was only asking because I was going to thank you. For watching over him. We know he's the strong, silent type, but he... I don't know if... after I didn't come back, if he -,"

"He was crushed." Carol interrupted her struggle, seeing the embarrassed flush crawling up Lacey's neck and sprouting from her temples. She felt like she need to alleviate the stress, at least partially, "Strong and silent or not, we all could see how ruined he was when you didn't come back - when none of you came back."

The blonde nodded, "But you took care of him."

"I did," Carol affirmed with a shake of her head, "I did the best I could. Making sure he ate, mostly. Getting him to talk, to rest. He didn't have trouble with the girls like I thought he would, he stayed attentive, more protective, which is understandable."

Lacey smirked, that embarrassment still tinting her skin, but there was an appreciative gleam in her eyes, "Thank you." Carol shrugged, saying that it's what they did, take care of each other, they were family, after all. Lacey nodded, agreeing, then added that if Carol had taken care of Daryl in _that_ way, she wouldn't have been mad, and she went on further to explain why she wouldn't be angry, but Carol was quick to silence her, blushing brightly and waving her hands in a ceasing motion. The younger broke into laughter first, and the elder followed. Their giggles dissolved after a minute and the quiet took over again.

Lacey hugged her stack of clothes closer to her chest, her eyes growing distant again. Everyone else was warm and welcoming, like Carol. They fretted over and pitied her, but it was almost like she'd only been gone for little over a week, or a month, at most. Things weren't strained or weird... except between her and Daryl. She wasn't aware she was speaking until she neared the end of her musing, "I guess I should've anticipated having to start from scratch... And that - uhh," her tongue fumbled, feeling heavy in her mouth. She swallowed thickly and took a steady breath, "Hm..." She closed her eyes, but that only seemed to make it worse, the panic was close to sinking its claws into her, but she wouldn't let it. "That other thing doesn't help either."

"Don't," Carol said sharply, dropping what was in her hands and turning to Lacey again, putting her hands on her shoulders, "Don't even think that was your fault. It wasn't." Blue eyes focused on green, making for certain she was listening, understanding, because she wouldn't let her be like that, not that way. Carol sighed, with a short, disappointed shake of her head. "Unfortunately that's the way some men are. And they're still that way, even when we're surrounded by this... madness..." She bit her lip before saying, "There wasn't anything you could do."

The younger shook her head, like a petulant child that just plain refused, her chin trembled but her words came out unshaken, "I could've been stronger."

Carol's fingers squeezed her shoulders, "Lacey, don't." The blonde just pursed her lips into a fine line and Carol glanced away for only a moment to gather her courage to remember what it was like, "I know how scary it can be. To feel so... completely powerless." Her gaze flitted away from Lacey's eyes to her mouth, just a glimmer of a scar on her bottom lip, that moment outside Atlanta when Lacey took the blow meant for Carol immortalized in her skin. That was when Carol had learned women really could be strong, far stronger than she imagined; they weren't just in films or television shows, they were real, and she wanted to be like them. When Ed died it was like a blessing and her first step toward becoming the woman she should've always been, a woman like Lacey (or Maggie, or Michonne). So, now, as Carol's poster woman for All-Around-Strength stood before her with eyes shining wet, blushing with embarrassment and anger, saying she could've and should've prevented something that was out of her control, it hurt her in a way like a domestic bruise from the past. "But you can't blame yourself. There's only one person at fault and it isn't you. You have to understand that."

Lacey pulled in a shaky inhale, "But he won't even look at me! It's like - it's like -!"

"You need to talk to him."

"But he won't -,"

"When has that ever stopped you before?" And the smirk picking up the side of Carol's mouth made Lacey calm, slightly, if only just to cease her complaining.

"I just -," Lacey sighed, looking down to her clothes clutched tightly in her arms, "I think he might hate me. For, ya know, leaving to go find Andrea in the first place."

Carol clicked her tongue, like a scolding mother, and Lacey eyes widened fractionally. "Now, that's just ridiculous."

Lacey's brows drew together, the expression of 'Huh?' strong enough to go unsaid.

Carol shook her head, not with disappoint this time, since her smirk grew wider, something like joyful disbelief, "Because he loves you."

The older woman chuckled softly when Lacey ducked her head down and a new flush lit up her cheeks brightly, one hand came away from her shoulder to cup against her jaw, easing her face back up, "Some how you did it. You got him out of that armored shell and managed to make him love you. You're the reason he cares for us, too. You got him to open up and care." Carol smiled, "You and Honey. A blonde duo he never really stood a chance against."

Lacey huffed out a laugh when Carol chuckled again.

"Talk," Carol said and gave her shoulder a parting pat, she moved back to the laundry, "You're good at that. And you're good at getting him to talk, too."

Lacey nodded, recalling the old times back in Atlanta when all they did was just talk and talk and talk. She could do this, Carol was right, she could talk this out.

"That's better," Carol's voice pulled her back to the present, Lacey rose a brow in question and Carol nodded at her, "Seeing a smile on your face again."

Lacey resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and Carol just grinned, whipping out water and wrinkles from shirts, "Just remember what I said."

Her task was far from finished, the tub she dipped in hands into seemed bottomless, pulling out item after item of clothing. And just when Lacey was about to offer to help, Carol said, "You should get a shower. We got the generator going, it not great - limited to a two minute spray, water pressure's awful and the water's cold, but it's better than a swim in a bacteria and leech infested river."

She was right, again. How long had Lacey been stewing in this particular filth - pushing five days? Yuck. She took her advice, thanked her and gave her a one armed hug, and headed down to her cell to drop off a portion of her clothes. She was met with a pleasant surprise. On her bunk was her raggedy old bag, as well as the shashka Maggie had given her. She felt stupid for getting so sentimental over her old things, but they were items she was positive she'd never see again, along with the people - family - she'd never see again. Her throat constricted at the thoughts of Lori and T-Dog but she pushed them aside. She grabbed a tank and the uniform pants and belt from the pile, and searched through the Sheriff's bag under the bunk for fresh underwear.

Lacey had her clothes and knife, a bar of soap and dark piece of terry cloth fabric that could barely pass for a hand towel, shoved in her old bag, and just as she slung the strap over her shoulder it occurred to her, she didn't know where the fuck the showers were. She groaned out a curse and began a short search for someone she could pester into guiding her.

Everyone was busy with some task of their own, still, and as fate would have it, it seemed that Daryl was her only option. The girls had been passed off to Beth, and what ever chores he had were long done. She steeled herself against the sinking feeling in her gut, the dread of having to approach him, having to talk to him, _bother him_. It was childish and stupid and she knew it. This wasn't her, and she didn't understand why the hell she was acting like this. She'd never displayed this sort of fear even when she was a child. It was getting old, and fast.

She took in a breath, focusing to steady her pulse, and reminded herself to remember what Carol said.

But all that uplifting shit Carol had said seemed to escape her the instant she called to him and he went completely rigid - just at the sound of her voice. That was a nice jab to the kidneys of her confidence, _shit_. But then again she had kind of, sort of, yelled at him last night; she couldn't really blame him for preparing for another verbal blow. So she schooled her expression, the tone of her voice, her posture, tried not to give off the '_And another thing, you asshole_!' vibe.

"Would you mind, uh, showing me to the showers? Maybe be my look out, too? I'd ask Jo or Sam but, uhm, they're, uh... occupied." _Wow. Wow! Are you really even trying_? Her thoughts chided.

But luckily she didn't have to linger on her failed execution of _cool_ long. He gave a short nod before exchanging the gun he'd previously been toting for his crossbow.

.

The walk to the showers was a careful one, and felt much longer than it truly was. They stuck close together, but Daryl was still painfully wary of making any sort of physical contact between them. There were no walkers in their path, and soon Lacey was scurrying into the room with shower heads lining the walls, promising she would be quick.

She wanted to make a comment about deja vu and Greene Farm, wanted to joke that she wouldn't be chopping her hair off again, but she refrained, figuring she ought to hurry up like she promised. She dropped off her bag, pulling out the knife and soap; she left the knife on top of her bag, just in case she had to race for it, and went for a shower fixture two away.

Her boots were pulled off first, then socks. Pushing the straps from her shoulders, the destroyed dress pooled at her feet seconds after, and she stepped out of it, nudging it aside with her foot. She stripped until she was bare, and even went so far as to remove the bandage from her arm. She didn't dare look down at herself, fearful of what unsavory thoughts might suddenly spring up and assault her mind. With the bar of soap in one hand, she turned the knob with the other, and fought against a squeal when the first spray of icy, cold water hit her.

The shock wore off slowly, and she remembered this wasn't a leisurely visit between her and the showers, this was a business transaction, so she quickly got to work.

.

Just like Daryl hadn't meant to eavesdrop on Lacey and Michonne's conversation the previous night, he hadn't meant to peek in on her in the showers. But his boy-like curiosity got the best of him; so when he swept his glance both ways down the corridor and found them clear, he turned his gaze over his shoulder.

In retrospect, he should've kept his eyes on the look out, like he was supposed to, then he wouldn't feel his heart in his throat and his stomach drop like lead to his knees. She had dark bruises on her back, along the left side of her ribs, and probably even more that he couldn't see. Some were yellowing and fading, but the fresh ones made his stomach hurt. There were scraps and cuts here and there, all minor compared to the stitched up cut on her arm. The stitches were a stark contrast against her skin, the flesh pulled, bound together by dark, twiny thread. Though he knew that those bruises and scraps were all mishaps gained from escaping Woodbury and fighting off the dead, he couldn't help his mind from wandering from the logical and toward unpleasant speculation.

That bastard's hands on her. The things he did to her, all while she was -

He looked away, he had to look away. It hurt to look, it hurt to think. He was supposed to protect her, supposed to keep her safe. And here she was, battered and broken. Manipulated and... It was his fault, he thought. It was all his fault. He couldn't protect her, and now she was... She probably hated him, she probably wanted nothing to do with him. She liked Merle better anyway, it seemed... Fuck.

He failed. Again. He always thought he didn't deserve her, but this just proved it.

He wanted her, though. Broken or not, he wanted her. Even when he'd accepted she wasn't coming back all those months ago, he couldn't stop thinking about her. She was it for him, that's what he thought, what he was sure of. He... cared about her, very, very much. He could make an effort, he could prove that he could protect her this time, that he wouldn't fuck up and let her get hurt again, let anything bad happen... But he just felt like such a failure.

What happened to her; all the things that happened to her, it was his fault.

He would try to fix it though. To the best of his abilities, he would mend what was broken. This was one of his more pleasant of dreams come true - she wasn't dead, she was back here with him, with them... He just had to break from his stubborn nature and - he internally sighed, because it was normally her that would take the beginning step and then he'd feel confident enough to go along, but... They weren't like that, not like they used to be. Daryl decidedly agreed with himself that he just arrived at a new level of hell.

.

Actions spoke louder than words with Daryl Dixon, even if those loud speaking actions confused him sometimes. That's what Lacey thought as she kept her gaze forward or up to keep from getting a glance at herself. She had to keep reminding herself what Carol said; it wasn't her fault, she couldn't blame herself for what had happened. But it was still hard to look at her own body and feel like it belonged to her. She was treated like an object, a rented object, and she'd had no idea. So she was fearful to look down and think of all the things that might've happened while she was unconscious. An infinite list of things her body had participated in without her knowledge, things she couldn't and would never recall. It made her chest tighten, made it hard to breathe, sparked the short fuse that led to complete overwhelming panic. She couldn't look, couldn't think of it.

And Daryl. It hurt to wonder what he might think. Though he said he didn't blame her and he didn't think she was disgusting, she couldn't help the devastating feeling. She didn't want him to see her, but at the same time she wanted all of him, all of his everything. She wanted to know him in that way again (and again, and again), wanted him to make her feel whole, and perfect and loved again. She wanted him and only him to touch her like that, because that's what marriage was. But that was a short lived hope when he went out of his way to avoid the slightest grazing touch.

She could still try though. Try, and if she was rejected, let it be.

For the last minute of the spray she let the water run through her hair, though she was in desperate need of some shampoo, conditioner, and detangler, cold water was all she could get. She hoped all the gore and dirt and what ever else that found home in her hair was washed out enough to give off a semblance of something less than a mussed bird's nest. She tossed a look over her shoulder just before the water sputtered and ceased. Daryl wasn't looking her way and she let out a sigh of relief, though her heart panged with something of sadness, too. Emotions were weird.

Lacey rubbed herself down in record speed with that washcloth thing and pulled her new clothes on before using the little towel to wring out the wetness from her hair. With all things collected and stored back in her bag, boots half laced on her feet, she made her exit.

He turned to her when she met him in the corridor; turned to her, was acknowledging her, which sort of caught her off guard. He was looking at her with something of disappointment in his features, but she didn't dwell on it, tried to focus on the task at hand. She needed to talk to him, they had to sort things out, get things back to how they used to be... if he wanted that. Her insides rolled and flipped unpleasantly with the possibility of him rejecting her; but she wouldn't know if he was rejecting her until she figured their shit out!

Even with the inch lift her boots gave her she still had to make the effort to lean upward onto her toes to reach a somewhat level field between their faces. And the space was closing between them before she even realized what she was doing. She caught herself quickly; hand already raised and settled, fingers curled loosely into the longer strands of his hair tickling over the back of his neck, she took a detour, and pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth, shortly, sweetly. Her eyes fell closed for a brief moment, relishing the feeling, even if it wasn't exactly what she'd wanted, it was close, and may very well be the last time she could get away with it.

She pulled away and it almost hurt to do so, and she didn't even care how cheesy that was, because it really did hurt. This was her guy, and they were acting all... weird together. After all they'd built up in such a short amount of time, and now... what? Awkward almost kisses outside prison showers?

But when her eyes finally opened to face reality again her heart fluttered, again, cheesy, but she couldn't really give a fuck at the moment, because he looking at her, and that disappoint was gone, replaced with something hopeful, something struggling but elated, all at once. Like maybe he wanted to chase her lips with his, like he was fighting against instinct to turn and capture her mouth in a deep, lingering crush of lips like he should've days ago the instant he found her.

Neither were brave enough, it seemed. Though Daryl looked on longingly, Lacey just smiled smally, removing her hand and letting her heels touch the cement again, she cleared her throat softly and murmured, "So, uhm, thanks. Ya know, for - for keeping a look out." _Talk. Talk, talk! Keep talking!_ But nothing else came out, her vocal chords were suddenly frozen over, and all she could manage was tucking sodden locks behind her ear and maybe matching his hopeful gaze.

"Don't worry about it," he grumbled out in his gravelly disinterested tone, but the look hadn't swept away from his face. Lacey felt utterly touched in the head to feel her heart start racing faster knowing he hadn't rejected her, just because he was looking at her like she mattered again.

The walk back was silent, but Lacey felt partially better, and she was even beginning to get enough courage to pull him aside before they reached the block to apologize, then talk; like, really talk, like they really needed to do because she-

"'ey." Inappropriate interruptions at inoppurtune moments, this world was chock-full of 'em. Merle stood at the bars of the block entrance, stood there like he'd been waiting for them, or at least for Daryl, since he was in charge in Rick's absence. Lacey's eyes flashed wide as they closed in on him, she hoped maybe, after all the time they'd spent together, she could communicate with him through just a look, like she and Jo could simply through their sibling bond. "Well, well. Lookit you, like a phoenix from the ashes." Nope, connection failure. She withheld an exasperated sigh at Merle's comment, at his interruption (goddamnit) and just rolled her eyes, coughing out a laugh.

"I wouldn't go that far."

If there was one thing Merle never passed up it was the chance to let his eyes shamelessly roam over someone, almost always a female (in the case of a gawking moment involving a male, it was usually with contempt). Even if Lacey was one of the few (maybe the only) females he respected, he didn't restrain himself from ogling. "Lookin' good, girly." If uniform pants that were snug on her hips and far too long and loose on the rest of her legs, with the excess fabric crammed into her boots, a blood stained tank top, along with slowly drying and frizzing hair was an alluring look in Merle's eyes, clearly his perception of good and bad was out of whack... or his standards adapted with the times. She rolled her eyes once more, and a smirk touched his lips before he moved his gaze over to Daryl.

"Kid and the others're back from the tombs. Freckles on watch is about to fall asleep on her feet, they need a break. We've all been waitin' on you," he said and dropped his hand heavily onto Daryl's shoulder before sliding it over and guiding him through the gate, "C'mon little brother, you an' me'll take the watch post and have a nice ol' chat."

Merle tossed a wink over his shoulder and Lacey scoffed a laugh. Daryl was grumbling something, and trying to shrug his brother's arm off as they walked further into the block and up the stairs.

Lacey wandered back to her cell, but she wasn't left alone for long, Sam appeared at the open doorway looking breathless and clutching a half empty water bottle in one hand while the other was braced against the bricks.

"Hey," she panted out and took a long pull from the bottle before capping it and stepping further into the cell.

"Hey. You look wrecked." Lacey moved her sword from the bed, setting it on the floor below the bunk along with her bag. She considered the rag of a dress within her bag, throw it away, never see it again - it was pretty useless after all, or keep it as a souvenir, remember what she accomplished, a reminder of the day she was reunited with the most important people in the world.

"Yeah. Freakin' walkers, man. They just never stop coming," Sam huffed casually and fell onto the bottom bunk, reclining until the back of her head touched the hard wall; she smirked when Lacey glanced up at her with half a grin on her mouth. The blonde stood and perched herself on the edge of the bunk and glanced back at the younger. "You look sparkly and new," Sam commented using her water bottle to jab at Lacey's elbow.

She snorted and looked to her c_lean_ skin, the stitches should probably be covered up again, she mentally noted before murmuring, "Pelted by sputtering ice water for two minutes. Hair's pretty much a lost cause." She brought the tangled, but far less dirty and gore tinged locks over one shoulder and picked through a few knots at the ends.

"I think Beth's got a brush, I could go..." Sam sat up, jutting her thumb out toward the block but Lacey waved her off, muttering out later when her hair was dry. The teen nodded but didn't sit back, she scooted more to the edge, letting silence take over the cell before she tread with caution, "So, uh... I couldn't help but notice you and the Huntsman are kind of strange."

Lacey stiffened, but her tone came out far less constricted than her body,"You didn't hear the fight last night?"

"No...?" Sam couldn't recall hearing anything until - "I woke up when you came. Was that why - what... what happened?" she gnawed on her bottom lip, "Or is it - Do you not want to, uhh..." She wasn't sure how to approach this, how to handle it. They'd been there for each other when the other lost kids and Lacey's brothers died, moving past it and moving forward to search for Sophia, together. But this seemed different... Sam wasn't there when what ever had happened, no one had been there - if her assumptions about what this was were correct, and god, she hoped she was wrong. "You wanna talk about it?" she finally offered and just waited.

Lacey glanced around the cell, trying to focus on something, a chunk missing from the brick work, a crack in the ceiling, anything to stave off the stinging prickle of tears gathering in her eyes. She pursed her lips and shook her head, heaving out a sigh, looking defeated as she shrugged, "Might as well. It'll be good practice for when I get him alone again... And I probably should... talk about it. Though I'm more of a fan of ignoring things until they just eventually go away, I don't think that's possible, huh?"

"Stop whenever you need to."

They sat back on the bunk, backs against the bricks, and Lacey started from the night she woke up in Woodbury and discovered Merle Dixon was alive. She skipped over the parts about smoking (regardless if it was the end of the world smoking was still bad, and it might still hit a sore spot for Sam she didn't want to poke at), and talking to inanimate objects or bugs; that would sort of work against her in her No Really, I'm Not Crazy plea.

She told Sam about Keenan, how different he was, how she realized how little she really knew of him, and what sort of man he'd become with the world going to shit around them. While she recalled it she found her heart quicken its pace, felt her throat shrinking and breathing became a little harder. She couldn't believe how stupid she was, but again, she tried not to blame herself. Especially with such an intricate - incredibly filthy as it was - plan. How could she have known? There really was no way she could've saved herself. Sam was there to calm her down, placing her hand over hers, and situating their fingers to link together. The teen scooted closer to her on the bunk, drawing her legs up to her chest, leaning her knees to nudge against Lacey's, tilting her head to rest on her shoulder. And it helped. She felt anchored, brought back to the present though those terrifying thoughts still lingered; she steadied her breathing and explained what Michonne had told her.

Sam's grip tightened its hold, and for a few moments Lacey thought the girl might lapse into a panic attack, too, like she'd passed it onto her like a contagion. She wanted to tell her it was okay, that she was fine, but... she really wasn't. No matter how badly she wished to lie, her mouth refused to produce the words. Instead she just shook her head, and spoke with a bitter tone as she reminisced about the past. How ridiculous they used to be, how ignorant. Even little under a year ago they were blissfully unaware of the monsters of a not-so-dead nature that still lurked in the shadows, the ones that plotted and schemed, up to no good, and still very capable of horrendous things no matter what pandemic had swept the globe. But before, in the past... Oh, how little their great concerns were in comparison to what they faced daily in the present.

"I remember when life's problems started out as trying not to cry on the first day in kindergarten when your parents left... Focusing on making friends... Hogging your favorite color marker. Then making sure you got on the slide at least once before getting on the best swing at recess. Then junior high was when popularity status started," she brought her shoulders up in a short, sharp shrug, "I don't know about anyone else but I couldn't really give a shit about that, and consequently - with my not giving a shit being subject sensitive - that's when I got into my first fight, when I got tough, when my _reputation_ began."

Sam smiled smally, but didn't add anything from her life experiences, just listened as Lacey continued, "But then in high school it was worrying about getting classes with your best friends and passing those classes and graduating... and in my case, hoping I wouldn't have to kick the shit out of the assholes who sat in front of my locker and refused to move because they were being cool in front of their posse," she rolled her eyes, "And then I'd get suspended for a couple of days for making someone swallow their teeth, and it was just..." she ended with a huff and groan, "I don't know about you, but I got **a lot** of bullshit in school, _quality experience_, I _guess_." She scoffed and Sam snorted. The teen had only attended two years of high school, but with her talent of blending in, she hadn't really faced many note worthy experiences, not nearly as many as Lacey had, apparently.

"Then-!" she cleared her throat when her voice cracked, "Then out in the world it's hoping you don't have to deal with dickheads, at least not a huge amount because there are credit card, car, and house payments to be made and you can't quit again, not again, because of those bills. And in the very back of your mind, the very last thing you'd think about was... try not to die today..." She shrugged again, something more exaggerated, "But now... That's all it is...Stay alive, keep the others and yourself safe. But above all, don't die."

It was quiet for a moment. Sam just let Lacey silently fume, breathing roughly through clenched teeth, eyes watering, but still, she wouldn't let tears fall, not like the previous night.

"And it's just - you'd think people might see the error of their ways. Ya know, the bad people? When all this shit started, but no... And I..." she sniffled, but still no tears. "I never ever suspected Keenan to be capable of something like..." she broke off into a short humorless laugh, wiping the corner of her eyes with her free hand, "But I guess what they say was partly true - it's usually someone you least expect, someone you know."

What followed was what Sam was sure was the beginning of another melt down, Lacey's chin trembled, her fingers held tightly then loosened their grip only to hold on for dear life again, "Wondering what he did to me... For five or however many months, and I have no recollection... It's just - it's just blank, ya know? It keeps me up, hurts my head to just..." She breathed in sharply, and blew it out in a large sigh. "Yes, I want justice, but I don't want to be a monster like him... the death penalty might be a little severe but..." she chewed on her lip and glanced at Sam. The girl's eyes were round and imploring, and Lacey smirked briefly, just a twitch at the corner of her mouth, "Don't get me wrong, I absolutely want to chop his dick off and take his eye out with a spoon but..." she trailed off with a chuckle, and Sam let loose a startled laugh of her own. The smile fell away, she murmured, "Then I'd be brought down to his level, wouldn't I? There's revenge and then there's... I don't know..."

"You don't have to say anymore."

Lacey nodded, sniffling again, and wiping under her eyes though no tears had fallen, just made her lashes misty. She shot Sam a watery smile, "Thanks."

"No problem. Talking is good. A lesson I taught Merle a few days ago, got him to talk about his feelings."

"You -," Lacey paused, turning her head to the side in shock, eyes wide, "You got Merle to talk about his feelings? He _has those_?" she joked.

Sam beamed, "Mhm. I'm a regular counselor of the apocalypse. Three squirrels per session, or something of equal or greater value."

Lacey snorted loudly before breaking into a few loud barks of laughter that dissolved into giggles. Not long after the girls' laughter subsided did Sam go and retrieve Beth. With the little ones in tow and a brush in hand the rest of the evening passed by in a moderate degree of peaceful. Lacey's hair was tamed, free of knots and then pulled into a tight french braid against her skull. Beth was then prompted by Erin to teach her how to braid, and the small cell rang with laughter and chatter. Even when Sam had to leave to take up a watch shift and the dinner bell rang Lacey felt much lighter than she had that morning. She felt like she was finally breathing again, like she was really home again. Though there was a new threat, aside from the constant, just beyond their gates, she was surrounded by the people she loved, and she felt so much like herself again.

With that feeling of being comfortable in her own skin again came that take-no-shit attitude, that confidence that would glue her and Daryl's relationship back together again. She assured Sam and Carol as much when they kept giving her painfully obvious glances, looking from the younger, rigid Dixon, then back to her, over dinner. It felt a little ridiculous, Lacey widening her eyes in that girl-language way that said, 'Ohmygod, shut up!'.

"I'm going to talk to him," Lacey said quietly while Carol wrapped up her arm, "We'll go outside, we'll talk, and everything will be fixed by morning... hopefully."

Both Carol and Sam fixed her with a stern look.

"What?!" Lacey flailed her arms out when Carol had finished off wrapping the gauze into a neat knot, "No promises, but I'm going to try my hardest to get at least back on sarcasmic terms with him."

"Try not," Sam said as she shoved a rifle into Lacey's arms, "Do, or do not."

Lacey scoffed, "Thanks, Yoda." And trotted off, but not before turning toward them and mouthing, 'I got this' and flashing a thumbs up. The two glanced at each other, smirking smally, a wordless agreement of, _Yep, she's back_.

The cell block was already dark and some were already asleep, so Lacey was careful about the volume of her voice and the sound of her steps as she swung into view of the cell where Erin, Honey and Daryl were. The girls were snoozing, completely out, and he was seated at the foot of the bunk. He raised his gaze when she stood there with an expectant brow plucked up and smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

"Ohh, _husband_," she quietly singsonged. She raised a hand and with a luring wag of her finger as she murmured, "We've got some 'splaining to do."

.

.

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Note: Lots of talking in this one. Lots and lots and lots of talking. So much talking. Um, so, sorry about how long this took to get up. In reality, I'm a lazy piece of scum and I don't really have any excuses to make... Next week I'll have excuses though, too many hours, TOO MANY, I'm gonna die. Work is going to actually kill me. But, um! Hopefully this chapter is enjoyable!

Also, readers of The Walking Dead comics, notice anything familiar? (I love Michonne, so much)

Also, also, I borrowed a line from Teen Wolf, because Stiles has the best dialogue ever. Anyone else losing their minds over the first two episodes of season 3? My GOD, what _the fuck_ even if going on!?

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead!

Thanks - to my beta, and to all the readers, reviewers, and subscribers.

Chapter Inspired by -

_Bad Romance_ by 30 Seconds to Mars

[Yeah. Yeah! That shit is eargasmic. Like, woah.]

_Cut Here_ by The Cure

_Please_ by Ludo

[This song is like another anthem for this story. Just, ugh! Ludo. LUDO!]


	17. Chapter 17: Part One

.

Though they were low on ammo, it was merely the farce of being armed that mattered. It was unlikely the Governor would send out scouts at night - from Andrea's explanations, he was raising an army; but where he would have numbers, his 'soldiers' lacked the collective experience the group within the prison had. As far as safety went, at night their only concern was walkers breaching the fencing.

The walkers milling about the field were a dull shuffling of creaky bones beneath a thin cover of rotted flesh that emitted a constant growling breath, just as common a sound as the crickets chirping and the nocturnal wildlife at play.

Lacey went to the small set of bleachers and took a seat on the top row, settling the rifle on the step below. She patted the space beside her when she looked up to see Daryl still standing - like an awkward child prepared for a scolding - "Have a seat," she murmured.

Under her critical eye he cautiously made his way to the metal stadium seating, and sat on the top most row where she was, but made the obvious effort of putting space between them - a two foot gap, at least. The rifle laid across his lap, and he stared at it, willed it to give him some courage in his goddamn hour of need. He could feel her stare on the side of his face, unwavering since she sat down. But the heat of her stare wasn't fueled by anger, or hatred; from the corner of his eye he could see her snagging her bottom lip between her teeth and gnawing.

Damn it, why was this so difficult?! A horde of undead? Easy. Tumbling down a hillside, the result of being thrown from a horse, and landing on a crossbow bolt, in the side, through and through? Whatever, shrug it off and be home before dinner. But this..? Dear god, he thought he was very well on the verge of panic - something he hadn't felt in decades - and wow, how unpleasant that felt.

The silence - stretched on for seconds, minutes, hours, he wasn't positive - was shattered when she heaved out a short sigh. "Alright." She brushed a hand over the top of her tamed blonde locks and took a few more calming breaths before muttering in a mish-mash of words, "I'm just gonna come out with it. There's no gentle way to go about it; and why even try to be gentle when we live the roughest of lives, right?"

"You don't have'ta," he said, his tone quick and loud, gradually becoming softer with each word, "I mean, I already heard it once, I don't really need'ta... hear it again, y'know?"

"Okay..." she nodded, seemingly startled by his active participation, "Okay, good, because I don't really want to hear myself say it again. But, uhm, we... we do need to talk... still."

"'kay."

"Okay," she breathed, and looked out into the field, dark silhouettes swayed and limped in all directions. She took in another soothing breath before beginning, "You look at me - _when_ you've looked at me - like I'm that annoying bitch who rolled into the Atlanta camp. Like I'm a liability. Like... you don't know me." From the side of her vision she tried to gauge his reaction, and from what she could see he looked confused and ashamed, "But you do know me... You do. And I know you... And I know it's been a while but I..."

Her hands clasped together flicked off small chips of nail polish that still lingered by her cuticles, but then she tightened her hold, ceasing the distracting motion and looked at him, caught his eyes and made sure she had them again when his glance bounced away. "I still love you." There wasn't any sort of wavering in her tone, or blipping heart beat, she was telling the truth as she kept her gaze firmly glued to his. But it was with the question building up on her tongue, already stuttered and jumbled before the words came to life, that she started lose that sureness.

Her throat clicked as she audibly swallowed. Sure, he hadn't rejected that ridiculously innocent kiss earlier, and he'd agreed to come outside to talk, but that didn't mean he was all on-board again, after she'd just admitted - _Oh, my god, this is a disaster_, her thoughts commentated helpfully, _better just keep going, head first, dive in, go_!

"Do...I mean, you were - you _seemed_ - happy to see me, but..." With her hair properly tamed, she couldn't resort to running a hand through her tresses in an effort to stall and ground herself with a small tug at the roots, instead she just swept her hand over the intricate piecing and placement of hair, finding solace in the pattern and near-softness of it. A soft chuckle left her mouth, paired with a smile picking up the corner of her mouth, "I know how it is, real men hide their feelings, right? And why? Because it's none of your fucking business. Ben taught me that, when I was, like, twelve... I think. Needless to say, that's probably why I went for the more, uh, expressive guys as I grew up..."

She glanced at him again, and saw the minute smirk on his lips, but also a sadness in his eyes, he looked far away for a moment, and she waited until his gaze came back into focus and in the present before continuing, "You don't have to - I mean, we've traded so many stories and I thought, maybe - I know you're guarded, and believe me, probably no one understands more than I do - but with me - I thought I was different...? I don't know - just... Okay, just listen for right now, and I'll... I'll do the talking, then you go, if you want."

She breathed in deeply through her nose and let it flow out through her mouth, she did that three times, fingers clasping and linking and untangling until she just clenched her fists together tightly and began.

"I never once stopped thinking of you while I was there. Never once. I thought of you, knowing you were fine, you were undoubtedly still alive and out there. Just surviving, keeping yourself and everyone else safe, because you're a good man, a great protector, and a... a perfect father..." She saw his body slump slightly in a way it might when letting out a whimper, she wanted to smile, but she couldn't manage it. "It was torturous to talk about you though, to know you were out there, and I was stuck, imprisoned, incapable of escaping and finding you... _I love you _and all I wanted - all I've needed, this entire time, is to know that you still love me too." Lacey's voice cracked at the end, but she didn't tear up, didn't cry. She gazed at him with those fierce green eyes, challenging him to deny his feelings, if there were any still there concerning her. His eyes bore into hers, with some mixture of emotion that she couldn't decipher, but he still seemed so vacant. Maybe she had lost him, maybe this was the final rejection. To be sure, all she had to ask was:

"Do…do you still-"

"I do," he whispered. She couldn't keep her eyes from widening, jaw dropping in shock, which gave him every right to get defensive. "What, you think I wouldn't? You think I'd just forget about all the shit we've been through just 'cause you were gone for a little while? That I'd just give up on you 'cause of some fucked up shit?" His fists clenched in his lap, knuckles close to popping as he looked to the sky, letting out a frustrated noise that was somewhere between a muted groan and a roar before moving back to her. He threw caution to the wind, he had to, otherwise they'd never get out of this rut; and away with caution went his stubbornness. This wasn't just her fight to get them back on the level, he needed to contribute, too. His hands went to either side of her face, holding her steady, though there was no struggle to get her wide eyed gaze locked to his.

"Are you listenin' to me right now?" he asked, his voice low and rough. There was fire in her eyes again as she nodded, all traces of that defeated Lacey from moments ago gone. "I..." he paused, still not all that comfortable with saying _the_ word, "I do..." he admitted slowly, then repeated with a more solid tone, "I do. Every day since Atlanta, every day you were gone and every day you've been back. You're not gettin' rid of me just 'cause of some sick shit." He let go of her face, one hand falling to rest comfortably against the hinge of her jaw, the other falling to hers as he messed with the ring still on her finger. "'Til death and all that."

"Then why the hell won't you kiss me, _touch me_ even? Dammit, Daryl, it felt like years before you would even _look_ at me," she responded, her tone more pleading than accusing than she wanted it to be.

"Seein' you, havin' you back…first it was too good to be true. Then I jus' felt…guilty." His stare fell away from hers, but his touch didn't recoil; his thumb brushed against her ear lobe then to her jaw, and she fought against a shiver, focusing on his words, because what?

"Guilty? Why the hell would you feel guilty? I'm the tarnished one-,"

"No. _Fuck_ no," he interrupted and his gaze flew back up, he shook his head sharply. "You cut that shit out right now, 'cause not a damn word of it is true. You are still a goddamn piece of perfect. I still don't understand why you want me, I don't deserve - And I…" he gripped her hand, giving it a squeeze as he looked down for a moment, and let his own hand fall away from her face while releasing a noise of frustration. Lacey mirrored his previous pose, sweeping her finger tips lightly under his jaw before settling her palm softly at the stubbly hinge, refusing to recoil even though he tensed up. Her fingers and thumb rubbed a light, soothing scratch of nails there, expanding and contracting, lulling him, pulling him back into that comfort zone where he knew it was okay to talk. His words tumbled out in an avalanche of feelings he didn't want to admit. "I gave you that damn ring an' promised to protect you, then I fuckin' lost you. I wasn't there to save you from the demented shit that sick bastard did to you. It's all my fault."

Lacey's breath hitched, before she let out a tutting sound. "If I have to cut the shit then so do you," she retorted. What she said, along with the insistent press of her fingers against his neck, made him meet her eyes once again. "It is no one's fault but his and the Governor's, and there is a special place in hell designated for people like them, and there's a special brand of karma lined up to send them there," she said, and there was such fire and passion in her eyes that Daryl couldn't stand it anymore. One hand went behind her head, crushing her lips to his, the other arm went around her, pulling her so close that her bruised ribs hurt. But she didn't care, because her heart was almost exploding with emotion at the feelings, at the closeness. The kiss wasn't perfect - it was too rough, her teeth clacked against his, but it was the best kiss of her entire life. Her arms were squished in between their chests, but she held steadfast to him just as surely as his grip was on her. And it was more than just a kiss - it was an apology, an admission of longing, a confession of love, and the base gratitude of being back together.

Seconds, minutes, hours passed maybe, and neither of them were to know for sure when they broke apart at the sound of tires crunching in dirt. The SUV's lights weren't on, but they navigated just fine by the moon light. Lacey could feel the warmth heating up her finger tips more than she could see it - the flustered flush beneath Daryl's skin. Looking through the darkness, through the scarce light, she could see a tiny smile on his lips. He tried to hide it, to turn his face downward, but she forbid it, keeping his face up and close to hers; she tilted her forehead to touch his for a moment. "I love you," she murmured, "All of you. And each of them." She pulled away to nod in the direction of the prison. The SUV was drawing nearer, she rested her lips softly to his once more. "Always remember that." She relinquished him from her hold and stood up, ring of keys in hand. He was momentarily stunned, having been pickpocketed so easily, and also by what had become of them over the last hour - what they'd overcome. Though things were definitely different now, and things would never be the way they used to be, it felt... better, easier. He ran after her, knife pulled from its sheath on his belt, giving her the okay when she took the lock from the gate and waited before pulling.

The SUV moved in quickly and parked while the two at the gate took care of the walkers pressed up against the fencing. Lacey waved Rick and Michonne off when they made to help, wordlessly telling them they had it handled and to go get some rest. Carl was barely managing to stay upright on his own feet. With the rest of the group back, no more walkers shoving against the fencing, they were left to just stay on watch.

There was a grin picking up one corner of Lacey's mouth as she braced her hand against the fence, fingers locking around the links; and before Daryl would ask her what was so funny she spoke.

"So, you wanna go bang out our lingering frustrations in the showers? I'm sure the acoustics are _amazing_." Needless to say that answered his unasked question. Her smile grew as his eyes widened and apparently his jaw had fallen open, too; rousing a delighted snort from her, chortling through her words, "Oh, my god, look at your face. I was kidding. Relax, relax." She pushed off from the gate and started back to the bleachers, "Your face was priceless though, totally worth it."

He closed his mouth, hating how dry his tongue and throat had gone. He followed her toward the metal seating and couldn't help a smirk from touching his own lips again, "I missed you."

She looked up at him, eyes wide and glimmering happily, she smiled, "I missed you, too... So much."

He toed at the asphalt for a moment before approaching and taking a seat on the middle row, allowing him to gaze up at her, he began slowly, "So, Merle told me some... some stuff... And things..."

For the next two hours Daryl relayed what he and his brother had talked about early that day. He asked for confirmation where it was needed, and she gladly answered. He told her about what happened when winter came, what the girls did and were like while she and Sam and Rocket were gone. During their third and final hour on watch they just talked, talked like they used to in Atlanta, about anything and everything, on topic, off topic, until Lacey could tell his next blink could very well be the one to lead him into slumber.

With her unneeded - but perfectly welcomed - support they made it back into the prison, into the cell block to Lacey's cell where Daryl didn't protest when she settled him onto the small bunk, close to the wall, and she nestled herself beside him. She scooted in close; the days and nights were not nearly becoming brisk enough to seek warmth from another, but it was the security of him, the feel of him, that she hoped would allow her to rest easier. Sleep was elusive, sleep was difficult to obtain since leaving Woodbury, but hauling his arm over her waist and sliding her fingers to fit comfortably with his, she thought it might help. Finally feeling like she was home again.

.

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Note: Okay, so this is just a section of Chapter 17, as is obvious by the 'Part One' bit. I want to and will eventually combine all the parts of 17 into one singular chapter, but for now it will be put up in parts because inspiration is hard to come by. And finding time to write is also pretty tough. But I didn't want to leave you guys hanging, and I figured, this will definitely make up for the wait and the impending wait that will follow. RESOLUTION! Yay!

Like I've said before, I'm not abandoning this story, it's just that work sucks, but income is great. That's life! Right? Ugh, barf.

Also a big thanks to XM for offering a sizable amount of work for this fraction of 17, she's a peach, a gem, an utter delight!

Thanks - for reviews and follows and favorites, as always, they're always, always appreciated... Always.

DID ANYONE NOTICE A CERTAIN REFERENCE?! Something Lacey said? Heh? HEEEEH?!

Chapter inspired by -

_Bad Romance_ by 30 Seconds to Mars

_Lightening_ by Nico Vega

_Sailor Moon - A Moonlight Serenade_ by Platina Jazz

[I'm not sure if I'm gonna get shit for that last one, but this rendition of the Sailor Moon theme blows my freakin' mind. It's so well done, and I've been plugging it like crazy to EVERYONE since Sunday, but that's not to say it doesn't go with this chapter, because I think it sort of does, when you pay attention to the lyrics. Siiiiiiiiiiiigh, I adore this damn song.]

Disclaimer: I do not own anything! Aside from my own characters. BUT I DON'T OWN THE WALKING DEAD, that is for DAMN sure.


	18. Chapter 17: Part Two

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Bated breath filled the cell; careful, measured, gasped. Though they had enough room to make any sound they pleased, they wouldn't allow the admittance of one; and feel the repercussions of embarrassment later on when an echoed cry bounced off the stone walls and into the next cell block.

It was the least romantic setting of all time (top three - at most), but they weren't going to waste a moment by worrying about the dingy cell floor they were on - there were a few blankets separating from them from the floor at the very best. It had taken them two weeks to get to this point, this point of comfort; of mutual trust and assurance - for each other and themselves. It was odd to have to plan out sex - planning a normally spontaneous act around an already hectic schedule.

The first week resulted in Lacey having an internal battle with herself - she'd made the joking suggestion, but then... She really did want to, after all that time without him, essentially alone... But she still felt used and ugly. She still hadn't gathered enough courage to actually face a reflective surface. She didn't want to see the damage, though any external damage was thanks to herself. She didn't want to see herself, face herself, and see what she'd become; didn't want to think of what had happened, what she'd let happen because of weakness. She could look down, look at her skin, but only to take account of her injuries or cleanliness. The bruises faded quickly; dirt, sweat, grime, and gore washed away. Moving into her second week in the prison the only thing that marred her features was the cut on her arm that was healing perfectly (and as the days and nights were growing steadily cooler the more they covered up - they were headed back into fall. It felt so strange to Lacey to have missed the past seasons with her family. Reunited at the same time she was stolen last year).

Daryl had refused; quick to follow up with an explanation that she looked so terrified, and he didn't want to until she really wanted to. It wasn't that he didn't want to, because he really, _really_ did. He just felt like she was psyching herself out too much, trying to please him, trying to meet his needs, when it was her he was worried about.

She didn't sleep much, still. More than once Daryl had woken up alone, horrified and sick with the sudden fear that she'd be taken again, only to find her at a watch station, or in the next cell with the girls, or with Rocket (who healed up just fine). Other times she would wake with a scream on her lips, or she'd remain asleep, thrashing in the waking world, trapped in a nightmare. She managed a few hours of uninterrupted rest, enough that she could function, she claimed, but it didn't ease Daryl's nerves. Especially when one the few occassions he'd found her in Merle's company ("I'd shoot that sum'bitch right in the dick for ya." Lacey snorted, a smile lighting up her previously dark face, "Thanks Merle."); he couldn't keep the speculations from rising up in the back of his mind. The way they chatted so simply, so comfortably - he had an inkling that he didn't really want to consider (though he considered it a few times before - it made his stomach roll and twist). But it must have been plainly written on his face because she rolled her eyes while they were both with Merle in the common area. Merle _begrudgingly_ allowing Honey to sit on his knee while adamantly keeping his knife away from her inquisitive grasp.

_"Calm down," Lacey muttered, and Daryl's brow scrunched further in confusion. "I didn't fuck Merle. It might have crossed my mind one or six times but-"_

_Two exclamations of '_WHAT_' sounded loudly against the stonework, one in horror and the other in surprised delight._

_"-_But_ I didn't!" Lacey finished her previous thought with another roll of her eyes._

_"Well, hell, girly," Merle grinned a filthy grin, and in his moment of smugness, shock and awe, Honey almost caught hold of his apparatus - almost; she made do with palming at the scruff on his face while he continued, "Like I said before, that dream can still become a reality." He ended with a wink._

_Lacey smothered a smirk, muttering, "Merle, stop." While Daryl grunted out an irritated, "Shut up," at his brother._

Daryl's lingering suspicions were trumped, and though he felt slightly better, he knew it wasn't really his feelings he needed to, or actually should, be worried about. He convinced her again and again and again that she wasn't damaged, that she wasn't ugly, or disgusting. And until she agreed with him he wouldn't do anything... apart from the odd kiss and hugging, of course.

On an adjacent level, though, he didn't want to **at all** because he was afraid to hurt her, afraid she'd have an episode, or worse, be thrown into shock and wouldn't say anything at all, even if she wanted him to stop. He just didn't want to do the wrong thing and fuck this all up when things were starting to go so well again.

All factors considered, and with a fraction of the communication actually needed to make some headway with this speed bump, they didn't actually get to this point - sprawled along a cell's cold, hard floor, limbs entangled, shuddering breath while meeting thrust for thrust - until Sam shoved them toward Cell Block B during what would've been the beginning of their watch shift. The little instigator ("I don't instigate! I only bring about results! I'm a resulter!").

It was awkward at first, as any couple would feel when tossed into a cell block to get up to less than productive activities. But all too quickly the situation evolved from awkward to just what they needed.

There were pauses, but every time Lacey would be the one to press onward. Trace a delicate touch of finger tips somewhere and capture the gasps from Daryl's lips. But he caught her, ceased her movements, wrists encircled by his hands like cuffs. She tugged uselessly against his grip, but didn't struggle long, she slumped back, sitting back on her heels and partially on his knees.

"We don't have'ta do this, y'know?" he offered carefully, noticing she kept her focus solely on his skin or the wall behind him, but far away from where she might accidentally catch a glimpse of her own flesh.

"I know," she nodded, and he let her wrists go, slid his hands down to link with hers. "I know," she repeated, and disentangled one of her hands to tuck her hair away behind her ear, "Do you - do you not- not want to?" she asked, already making to move away from him. He caught her other hand again, holding them tight in his grasp.

"Can ya look at me?"

She glanced up, carefully, slowly, until her green eyes met his soft, blue gaze.

"I jus' don't wanna hurt you, or scare you an' make you think of... that."

Lacey's eyes widened, "Oh," she breathed, and her fingers squeezed his briefly before she brought her hands up to the sides of his face, fingering the longer fringe as she shook her head, "Oh, no. No, no." She smiled, coughing out a small laugh, "No. You're mine, and I'm yours. How could I ever be afraid of you?"

She quietly laughed again when his gaze fell, a flush flaring from his ears and neck. She dipped down and captured his lips in a short kiss, drawing his face back up. She pulled away enough for her to speak, her lips brushing over his with each word, and he followed each movement, caught up in the light touch, the need for the soft seal. He wasn't so entranced not so hear her though when she quietly said, "I know you, and I love you. Remember?" She looked for his eyes, but his were half lidded; he nodded in understanding all the same. And she grinned, smug, and shy, "You won't hurt me. I won't break."

There was another pause then, a long, quiet moment when they just looked at each other, into the other's eyes. And that feeling of completeness, relishing at being this close again, content washed over them... before they broke into a flurry of desperate, hurried movements. Anything that had not been removed from their bodies previously was none-too-delicately ripped off and tossed away.

When Daryl made no movement to take control, Lacey stepped up to the task and straddled his lap. Hot breath, puffed in gusts, blew her hair from her face as she tried not to rush as she settled down. She was anxious for it, no doubt just as much as he was, and her instincts were telling her to _go, go, go_! but she knew she ought to slow down. And Daryl's actions said as much. Though his short nails sunk into her hips, he didn't make a move to slow her down, or speed it up - he simply went with the motions. He whimpered, a low sound in the back of his throat when she sat completely on his lap, and let out a whining little breath that sounded like pleased relief.

He was submitting to her, she realized; and not only just then, but since they'd conquered their mountain of trouble. All the time, he protected her, but in one way or another he was being submissive, letting her lead, decide, anything that would allow her the control that he knew she needed to feel truly safe. In that moment of realization, she could've cried, because he was so smart, so perfect and-

Lacey crashed her lips down to his, desparately seeking to convey all her emotions in her kiss. She halted in movement, thighs clenched, knees digging uncomfortably into the floor and locked onto his hips; her hands clutched at his face, and her tears slipped from her eyes. He startled back, worry coloring his face, but she just shook her head, and in just her eyes alone he could see the love she held for him within her.

She began to move, setting a steady tempo and he shifted his hips beneath her to meet her motions. He had a hand on her hip to help guide her, while the other hooked around her back, his palm splayed flat between her shoulder blades, keeping her close. She slid her hands through his dark tresses when he couldn't handle watching her lest he end this far more early than he wanted it to, his forehead pressed into her shoulder. Hands held in loose fists in his hair, she was beginning to lose her rhythm, after such a long time, now mostly relying on Daryl to pick up the slack, and take them to the finish. The build up wasn't hard to achieve, and any second - with the kisses, bites and flicks of tongue against the skin of her shoulder, as well as a mischeivous travelling hand - she was going to tip over the edge and hopefully drag him down with her.

Lacey was reduced to gasps, choking moans smothered in her throat, as all her muscles clenched then loosened as her end raced through her. Daryl wasn't far behind, or he had lost himself before her - he'd never admit to the latter, but she could wonder idly to herself with an arrogant smirk. His restrained groan broke away from him, and sounded loudly throughout the cell, throughout the block. She let out a laugh, fingers loosening completely from their hold in his hair, running through the sweat sodden strands; she laughed again when he pulled his face away to blink blearily up at her; both of them catching their breath.

"I don't want to know how she did it, but I think we should be thankful for Sam stealing condoms from Glenn."

Daryl panted out a short chuckle, hissing slightly at the sensation when Lacey pulled away to lie flat on the blanket. "I'll give you 30 minutes before we go again," she sighed.

He chuckled again, falling down beside her, sweeping his sweaty fringe from his forehead, "Gimme 15."

.

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Note: Gratuitous sex sceneeee! Let's be honest! It's what we've all been waiting for - cough, cough, XM, cough, cough. What?! Shh, I don't know. But she said it wasn't gratuitous at all, it was just right, she said. But yaaay! Relationship development! Right?!  
I'm really sorry for how slow this is going. I don't mean to! I just suck!  
Also! Tomorrow! I think! Is when The Walking Dead Season 4 trailer(?) is released at Comic Con!  
You GUYS! Key smashes are in order! I'm flipping out!

Chapter inspired by -

_Sound Effects and Overdramatics_ by The Used

_Lightning_ by Nico Vega

_Hands_ by The Raconteurs

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the things. Sad.


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